Before the Storm Falls
by lady scribe of avandell
Summary: He had expected some sort of greeting party once he reached the palace. What he received was a solitary woman in a simple but regal dress. She seemed to be daydreaming, and for a moment Éomer wondered if she was perhaps touched in the head.
1. Word Games

A/N: arrgh. my computer is evil. it crashed a second time last week, and so we had to re-install the word processor and all that crap AGAIN. i think we're getting a new computer soon, but i'll probably still be using this one for my stories (and school papers...it will, in essence, be all mine). anyways, i'm sorry for not updating anything sooner. i had band camp this week and haven't had time for anything. in any case, this is my new e/l fic. sorry it took so long to get it up. hope you like this! i worked hard on it!

disclaimer my reward for going to band camp is full rights to eomer. MWA-HAHAHA...i wish. i really own nothing. i promise.

Chapter I

He met her in Dol Amroth. Éomer had been sent as the emissary to Lord Imrahil, for Théodred was on a campaign when the messenger had arrived. The young marshal went with doubts: he was merely the king's nephew, and this was his first assignment. Would the great lords of Gondor listen to his thoughts on the trade agreements or would they merely laugh at his ideas? Such were his thoughts as he rode through the city gates of the great principality.

He had expected some sort of greeting party once he reached the palace. What he received was a solitary woman in a simple but regal dress with a small circlet of dull silver upon her dark hair. She seemed to be daydreaming, and for a moment Éomer wondered if she were touched in the head. But then she turned to him and spoke. "Greetings, Master-Horselord," she said in heavily-accented and horribly mangled Rohirric.

To spare his ears and native language further insult from the Amrothian, Éomer quickly answered in Common Tongue. "Greetings to you, my lady," he said, bowing low and glancing around for any sign of Lord Imrahil, "but where is your husband, if I may ask? Or does he not give Théoden-king's emissary enough credit to greet me himself?"

The girl laughed at him. "You may ask, milord, but truly I could not tell you where he is or what he thinks of your king's emissary," she replied, a great smile upon her face, "for I have yet to meet him myself. But believe me, sir, the moment we meet, I shall ask him both questions."

Needless to say, Éomer was terribly confused. He wondered again if the woman was perhaps quite mad, because that seemed to be the only possible answer for her odd response. "You speak riddles milady," he said at last. "You stand at the steps of the prince's palace, yet you say you have never met him? Where is Lord Imrahil? Does he prepare for your wedding?"

"I should certainly hope not," she answered, "for this would be the first I have ever heard of any wedding. My father rode to Dor-en-Ernil yesterday along with my brothers to meet with some villagers who were having problems with bandits. He asked me to wait for you because he knew you would arrive sometime today. He sends his regards and bids thee rest from your journey. He will be back tomorrow if all goes well."

Éomer's jaw went slack. This was Imrahil's daughter? He could feel a heavy blush creep from his neck up to his hairline, and he desperately hoped the maiden did not notice.

"A wasp will fly in your mouth and sting your tongue if you stay like that too long," said the girl matter-of-factly. "I daresay your trade talks would end rather quickly if that were to happen." Éomer immediately closed his mouth, causing her to giggle. "Now if you would follow me, I shall show you to your rooms."

As he trailed behind her through the winding corridors, Éomer at last found his voice. "What is your name, milady?" he asked.

"Princess Lothíriel, daughter of Prince Imrahil. And yours?"

"Éomer," he replied, "son of Éomund, nephew of Théoden-king, and recently-appointed Third Marshal of the Mark." He smiled as he spoke: his uncle had honored him greatly by naming him a marshal. At twenty-six, he was the youngest anyone could remember.

"Welcome, then, Éomer, nephew of the king and recently-appointed Third Marshal, to Dol Amroth." He couldn't see it, but Éomer knew she was smiling again. "Ah, here we are," she said after some time. She beckoned him to the door of the room. "There should be a bath drawn for you already. I will fetch some food from the kitchens and bring it to you. It will be ready when you have washed." She gave a quick nod and was gone down the hall.

Éomer, however, stepped inside the room and immediately gasped. A finer guestroom he had never seen. It was airy and light, as the rest of the palace had been, with large windows that let in the bright sun. It smelled of lavendar and another scent that he could not quite place; he would later learn that it was the salt air blowing in from the sea. He sighed in pleasure; this room was a far cry from the officer's barracks at Aldburg. He ran his hand through his hair while glancing around for the washbasin. Much to his surprise, there wasn't one. Lady Lothíriel had been mistaken. Disgruntled at having to be grimy a while longer, Éomer went to the door, planning to search the halls for a servant to bring a basin. Instead, he found Lothíriel with a tray of food in her hands at his door.

"Milord Éomer," she stammered, obviously startled, "I did not expect--I mean, I thought you would be in the bath already. Was it not to your liking?"

"The bath is not here," he said, slightly embarrassed that it was the princess who would be dealing with it.

She looked at him oddly for a moment before pushing her way into the room. She set down the tray and walked to a door Éomer had not noticed before. "It all seems to be here," she called as she looked in. She opened the door wider, revealing a room with a steaming fountain of water in the center of it. "You'll find soaps and sponges in that cupboard, there. Use any of them you wish. I'd recommend the one with chamomile and nettle for your hair (it'll brighten the gold highlights) and the rosemary for the rest of you. Don't get it in your eyes, though, because I won't come rinse them out for you. I've had to do that for all three of my brothers, but I'm not about to baby anyone else, no matter how pitiful they are. There are combs and brushes on the shelf by the mirror along with a shaving knife and foam. Fresh towels are on the rack. Enjoy yourself." And again she swept out of the room, an amused smile on her face.

Éomer turned back to the bath. It was more amazing than the bedroom. Somehow, the Amrothian architects had found a way to bring water into the palace. He briefly wondered if Prince Imrahil would be willing to share the technology, but decided the water was too inviting for further thought.

A/N (again): look! i got the accents! hopefully it'll do ok...this is a very different sort of story from tmmdts. lothiriel's a bit more light-hearted, and eomer is more of an innocent. of course, this part takes place in 3017, almost two years before the war. btw, aldburg was the headquarters for the third marshal's eored, according to the book of lost tales.


	2. Word Games Reprised

A/N: wow, guys, i smiled all the way through reading my reviews. thankies, everyone! and yeah, fey would be a good word to describe lothiriel...i was thinking tease, but i like fey much better.

btw, i'm trying to come up with a better title than "the tender grace." any suggestions are welcome, and if i use the one you give me, i'll give you a present.

disclaimer i have not a penny to my name. i make no profit from this.

Chapter II

After he had bathed and eaten, Éomer decided to explore the palace. It was a large maze of open halls that connected wings and often opened into gardens. He walked through the stone corridors, marveling at the intricate details in everything from the floor tiles to the carvings in the ceiling. Even the great hall of Meduseld was not this elaborate. In fact, it seemed to Éomer that it was almost too fair to be of this world. As he walked along, one of the gardens caught the young marshal's eye. Weeping willows created a natural barrier between the hallway and the garden itself, but Éomer could see a fountain through the foliage. Intrigued, he followed the path through the trees.

The garden was filled with the sound of bubbling streams. Blue and purple flowers spilled over some of the fountains, and vines snaked around the columns of a small gazebo. No two fountains were the same: one was of children playing, another was of fair maidens dancing. One was even an archer with his bow taught and ready; from his arrow came a steady stream of water that fell into a pool.

"I see you have found the fountain garden," said a voice from behind him. Éomer turned, though he already knew it was the princess who had found him. "It is my favorite garden in all the city."

"Fountain garden?" he repeated. "It is an appropriate name, though I have never heard of such a thing."

Lothíriel laughed softly. "Few outside of Dol Amroth have. Many, many years ago, before my father's father was born, even, one of the ladies of the nobility decided she wanted a garden. However, the lady did not want the garden to be filled with flowers that withered at the end of the warm season. So, she decided that her garden would be filled with water. Obviously, she also planted flowers, all of which return every spring. The fountain garden holds many beautiful fountains and statues, as you can see, but none of these are my favorite."

"What is your favorite, then?" he asked.

"The centaur, of course."

"Which is--?" He let the question hang in the air.

She smiled serenely and walked as one who had traveled the path many times, almost closing her eyes. "Come with me, and I will show you." She led him down the dirt path, stepping lightly among the summer blooms.

They turned a corner, and Éomer saw a sight he never would have dreamed existed. In the center of the garden stood a pedestal, and on top of that pedestal stood a grey-black statue of a creature, half-human, half-horse, in mid-gallop. His hair flew back, and he seemed to be smiling at the feel of an imagined wind on his face. Éomer had never seen a more amazing work of art. If he hadn't known better, he would have believed it to be real.

"What is it?" he asked, turning to Lothíriel.

"It is called 'The Centaur.' The sad thing is, the name of the craftsman has been lost. No one knows who carved the statue, nor do we know from whence he came. Some say it was an Elf who came from the Undying Lands. Others say it was a man from the farthest reaches of the East who had actually seen such a creature. Still others say that it was a half-blind man who saw one of your people and believed him to be half-horse." She laughed again; something Éomer was beginning to realize was a common occurrence. "Personally, I rather like the last."

"Do you mean that, or do you say such for my benefit?" he asked, smiling.

"Neither. And both."

"You present a paradox, my lady."

"Do I?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and circling away from Éomer. "Or are you just trying to make sense out of things that should be left alone?"

"Or perhaps _you_ are the paradox."

"You catch on quickly, milord." She smiled. "Few join me in my word games, and fewer still see them for what they are so soon. My brother Amrothos plays with me quite well, he is by far the best adversary I have, but most only just get by. Elphir hates it and refuses to play."

"Elphir?" he asked, wary of his earlier mistakes in the princess's relations.

"My eldest brother." She shrugged. "He is far too serious for his own good. Erchirion and Amrothos, on the other hand, are nearly too mischievous for anyone's good." She began to walk away, heading back toward the entrance of the garden. Éomer followed behind. "Would you like a tour of the palace, milord?" she asked, suddenly formal.

"Yes, if you please."

"Where should we start? You've already seen much of the gardens, so we shan't tarry here. Would you like to see the halls? The kitchens?" She paused. "The training grounds?"

"The training grounds, I believe."

"Good. I would have taken you there anyway, no matter if you'd said the highest tower in palace. There is a talcoron match today," said Lothíriel. "You are in for a treat, milord. It is a magnificent sport."

They walked in amicable silence for a while, until Éomer could hear the shouts of what sounded like young men playing a game. They turned a corner and were greeted by the sight of many people surrounding a field and cheering two teams of squires on. "What did you say this was called, milady?" he asked.

"Talcoron," she answered. "Tis Elvish for 'foot-ball.' Why?"

"We play the same sport, though our people call it 'sokar.' I have played many a match in younger days."

The princess laughed. "You are not so old that you no longer play, are you?"

"Nay," he replied, "but my new duties as a marshal greatly limit the amount of free time I now have. There is little room for sport when there are orcs to hunt." Éomer felt the princess stiffen beside him at the mention of the dark creatures. He wondered if perhaps he had touched a nerve on accident, but she quickly recovered.

"I think there are some empty seats down by the other goal," she said. "Shall we go?" And with that she hurried through the crowd, Éomer not far behind.


	3. Teachers

A/N: would you believe that i've already written the last few paragraphs of this story? so now, i just have to write what happens before that..lol.

nutcase, perhaps the sokar bit was a little over-the-top, but the idea actually came to me while i was writing a xanga entry. i thought that it fit perfectly, and might give some insight as to why the sport has two names, one of which makes no sense. and before i forget, lariren-shadow gets the prize of knowing that i really liked her title idea, so i borrowed from it and came up with "before the storm falls." hope everyone likes the new title!

::disclaimer:: i don't even own the title. there aren't even any oc's in this (yet). i only own the bit about sokar and the centaur, and i don't even know if it'll show up again.

* * *

Chapter III

Éomer awoke the next morning to the sound of someone singing rather loudly outside his window. He opened his eyes to find that the sun had barely risen over the mountains. Groaning, he shut his eyes again, hoping against hope that whoever was singing would either quit soon or leave. Of course, she did neither. At last, Éomer threw off the bed sheets and stalked over to the window. "Do you mind?" he said, sticking his head out the window. "I was having a dream."

"Good morning, milord!" called Lothíriel from below him, a great smile upon her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I'd forgotten that you were staying in that room." From the way she was smiling, Éomer wasn't entirely certain she was telling the truth.

"Yes, well, um, please remember it in the future."

"Of course." She paused. "What sort of a dream were you having?"

He blinked. "What? Oh...a good one, or at least, not a nightmare."

"What was it about?"

"Um...." He looked around, checking for other people. "I'll tell you at breakfast."

"But I've already had my breakfast, milord. I was up before the sun, making sure all the mariners made it back last night. But never mind that, once you have dressed--" here, her eyes flicked to his shirtless torso and back up to his face "--I will meet you in the dining hall."

"I'll see you there," he replied, backing away from the window.

* * *

"Tell me of your dream, milord," said Lothíriel, taking Éomer's arm as he walked into the dining hall.

"What do you wish to know?" he asked, seating himself at one of the long wooden tables.

"Everything!" She threw her arms up into the air to accent her exclamation. "I love hearing of dreams, no matter how strange or dark they are. Some people," she said sagely, "believe that dreams are windows to the inner mind. Others say they are glimpses of the future. I say they are both, and I love to try to discover what they mean. So will you tell me of yours?"

He sighed. "Very well. I was in a city, though I do not know where. I could see my sister Éowyn, standing at the top of the steps to a large house, as she often does at Meduseld when both Théodred and I are away. Suddenly, Éowyn saw someone she knew, and smiling, she ran to him. I do not know who he was, but his hair was dark, and he was tall and grim, much like your people, though of sturdier build. But he made Éowyn smile, so I knew I could trust him. Then I was standing upon a hill with another man, similar again to your people, but not the same. We clasped hands as brothers and walked down the hill together. The scenery changed again, and I was here, in my room, listening to someone singing a song in a strange language. Slowly I realized that it was not a part of the dream, but someone actually singing outside my window." He glared at the princess, but could not suppress a grin.

"I swear I did not mean to wake you," she said innocently. "I was merely singing as I always do in the mornings."

"And what were you singing?" he asked.

"It is the song of Lúthien Tinúviel," she said. "My mother used to sing it to me at night when I could not sleep."

"What language is it? I did not recognize it."

"It is Elvish. My father's people are descended from the Elves that used to come to the havens in Edhellond. Or at least, that is what the legends say. In either case, I learned the Sindarin tongue when I was a child. It is far more beautiful than the common tongue."

"Will you say something to me in Elvish, then?" he asked.

"Mae govannen, rochir. Baren bar lin. Gîl síla erin lû e-govaded vín."

"And what does all of that mean?"

"Well met, horse-lord. My home is yours. A star shines upon the hour of our meeting."

"I can understand now why you mangled my own language yesterday," Éomer said. "Even the simplest phrases in Elvish are much prettier than anything in my native tongue."

Lothíriel blushed. "I did not mean to insult you, if that is what I did. Your language does not roll so smoothly as Sindarin does."

"Unless it is your native tongue," he said. "Westu, Lothíriel, hal! Min cýðð is eower. Leoht scinaneþþ on gemot."

"And what was all that gibberish?" she asked. "I heard my name, but I understood nothing else." She squinted at him. "You didn't curse me, did you?"

"You wound me, my lady!" he cried. "I merely repeated what you claim you said to me, in Rohirric, of course."

"Would you teach it to me?" she asked suddenly. "I have always been fascinated by languages, but no one here knows your tongue well enough to teach me."

"I would be delighted to do so, but only if you promise me one thing."

"What is that?"

"Teach me a little Elvish."

**

* * *

a note on the rohirric and elvish:** i found the elvish translations in councilofelrond's languages section. the rohirric is, of course, old english, though i probably mangled it to pieces. if anyone knows how to conjugate the verbs correctly, please let me know! as far as i know, eomer did repeat what lothiriel said in elvish, except i exchanged "star" for "light." the links for all of the sites i used are in my profile. 


	4. Messages

A/N: lariren, someone else reviewed and said that lothiriel was very fey. i think that is probably the best one-word description for her. also, i'm glad that you caught the significance of the dream...you were correct on both accounts. and the sites i used are listed as links at the end of my bio.

thankies for all the reviews, everyone!

::disclaimer:: i own none of the characters (with the exception of saeriel). only the plot.

* * *

Chapter IV

It was nearing noon when the message arrived. Lothíriel had been instructing Éomer on the proper usage of the word "mellon" when the errand runner from the falconry entered her drawing room.

"My lady," he said, breathing heavily, "word from Prince Imrahil." He handed her a slightly crumpled letter sealed with blue wax.

"Thank you," she replied. "Go tell the cook I said you could have a sweet cake for bringing this directly to me."

The boy's eyes danced with delight. "Thank you, milady," he said, bowing low before running to the kitchens.

Lothíriel smiled after him as she broke the seal of the letter. As she read her father's message, her smile quickly faded. She bowed her head, almost, Éomer thought, as if in defeat.

"Is something amiss?" he asked.

The princess took a deep breath and turned to him. "It seems the bandits were larger in number than orignally thought. Adar says it will be a few days yet before he is able to return, but Elphir will arrive tomorrow." She forced a smile. "He worries for his wife and new-born son."

"You did not say your brothers were married. Why were their wives not with you yesterday?" Éomer jumped at a chance to steer the girl's mind away from the letter she held.

"Only Elphir is married. He and Saeriel were wed last spring. Alphros was born only three months ago, and Saeriel was weakened by the birth. She's been fine for the past two months, but Elphir worries. He was loathe to leave his wife's side, but duty called. Speaking of which," she declared, "I need to tell Saeriel the news. Would you like to come with me? And then we can get some lunch. I'm starved."

"Certainly." Éomer stood and offered her his arm. He was surprised at how quickly she had recovered from the knowledge that her father would not be returning as soon as hoped--something that surely would have brought many women to tears.

* * *

"Saeriel?" Lothíriel called as she opened the door of the cottage on the outskirts of the palace gardens. On their way there, she had explained to Éomer that it was Elphir's wedding gift to his wife--a home near the palace, but isolated enough for privacy.

"I'm in the bathroom," answered a female voice. "Alphros needed a changing. But make yourself comfortable, I'll be out in a minute." Lothíriel seated herself and guestured for Éomer to do the same. Moments later, a woman holding a small child came into the room. She had very curly flaming red hair--something Éomer had never seen before. "Lothíriel" she exclaimed, "you didn't tell me you'd brought a _friend_." Particular emphasis was put on the last word, causing Éomer to blush crimson. Lothíriel just grinned.

"Saeriel, may I present Éomer, Éomund's son, nephew of Théoden-king, newly-appointed Third Marshal of the Mark, and the emissary from Rohan." She turned to Éomer. "I did get the titles correct, didn't I?" He nodded mutely, the blush creeping up to his ears. "Good. Éomer, this is Saeriel, Elphir's wife."

"Mae govannen, rochir," she said, bobbing her head slightly. She smiled warmly. "You have a long name for one so young."

"Mae govannen," he mumbled in return.

"You'll have to excuse his pronunciation," said Lothíriel. "He just started Sindarin studies this morning."

"So you've taken him as a student until your father and brothers arrive?" Saeriel inquired. "But aren't they supposed to get back today?" She sank slowly into a large chair, cradling Alphros in her arms.

"That's what I came to tell you," Lothíriel said quietly. "I received a message from Adar this morning. There were more bandits than they thought. Elphir will be back tomorrow, but Adar and Erchirion and Amrothos and the rest won't be back for at least a week."

"And undoubtedly they'll have wounded with them."

"Yes. We'll have to start gathering bandages this afternoon, but I wanted you to know Elphir was on his way."

"Thank you," said the older woman. As the other two stood to go she stopped them. "Have you two had anything for lunch?"

"No," replied Lothíriel. "We'll get something from the kitchens, though." She guestured to Éomer. "He doesn't know it yet, but we're having a picnic on the beach."

Saeriel laughed. "Should I send a chaperone?"

"What?" asked Éomer.

"No, no," said Lothíriel. "We'll stay out of trouble. There will be enough mariners around that he won't be able to try anything." She gave a sidelong glance to Éomer.

"It's not him I'm worried about," countered Saeriel. She turned to Éomer. "If she tries anything, just threaten to tell Elphir everything. That usually stalls her long enough for the poor soul to get away."

Éomer merely blinked at her as Lothíriel protested. "Saeriel, I never--"

"Oh yes you do," she said, smiling smugly. "Now, scat, the both of you. I need to put Alphros to sleep."

Lothíriel took a deep breath. "Very well. Come along, Éomer, I'm starving." And she stormed out of the cottage, leaving Éomer blinking in astonishment. "Well?" She stuck her head back in the doorway. "Do you want lunch or not?"

"Uh...."

"Go on," said Saeriel. "I doubt she'll try anything now. But be on your guard." She grinned. "If there's one thing I've learned during my years in the palace, it's that Lothíriel will try anything once, even if her victim has been forewarned."

* * *

A/N (again): so our fey princess is not so innocent as she first seemed. up next, the picnic...hehe...this could be interesting.


	5. Saberman's

A/N: awww...thankies guys. and, as a treat, since my last chapter was pretty short (in comparison to some of my others) this chappie is pretty long! enjoy!::disclaimer:: you know the drill. btw, the potbelly pony and the schnookered grasshopper are both names of rpg "inns" my rpg characters have visited. saberman's and the laughing bards belong to me.

* * *

Chapter V

"What did she mean by that?" asked Éomer as he half-ran behind Lothíriel, still trying to organize the tangle of riddles the two women had made.

"Oh, nothing," she answered flippantly. "Now, hurry up. We have to go change."

"Change?"

"Well, we can't very well go to Saberman's Pub in what we're wearing now." She glanced at Éomer, who was wearing a simple tunic and breeches. "Or at least, I can't."

"But I thought we were going on a picnic," he sputtered.

"Of course not! Why in the world would we want to go on a picnic? I mean, the ocean's alright, but the tide is low and believe me, you don't want to be on the beach when the tide is low." She grinned. "Besides, you don't strike me as the picnic type."

Éomer considered telling her that it was true, he had not really wanted to go on a picnic, but then he thought better of it. "So where _are_ we going?" he asked instead, following close behind her.

"I told you. Saberman's Pub. But first I must change....I'd rather not be waited upon hand and foot." She paused at a door in the hallway. "Wait here, I'll be right back."

She opened the door, and Éomer caught a glimpse of the room as she stepped inside. It was similar to his own, and he realized it was her bedroom. Blushing profusely, he turned away quickly, looking for a place to sit and wait. There was a small alcove across the hall with a seat built into the wall. He walked over and sat, waiting patiently and wondering what, exactly, the princess was getting him into.

It wouldn't take long for him to find out, because Lothíriel came out of her room in a flurry of skirts moments later. "Shall we?" she asked, crossing the hall and taking his hand.

Éomer rose and linked arms with her, taking in the plain blue dress she now wore. "You look very nice," he said as they walked down the hallway.

"Thank you," replied Lothíriel. "I've always loved this dress." She flounced the skirt, making it billow slightly. "It's very...freeing. I feel like I can move and not have to worry about tripping or tearing the skirt. It's wonderful for the summer festivals; it's good for dancing," she said with a gleam in her eye.

"Dancing? What sort of dancing?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," she answered. By this time, they had exited the palace through a small gate in one of the gardens and were making their way through winding alleys toward the docks.

"What did you say the name of the pub was?" Éomer had noticed they passed many taverns, all of which had colorful names such as The Potbelly Pony Pub, The Laughing Bards Tavern, and, his favorite, The Schnookered Grasshopper.

"Saberman's. The finest ale this side of Rohan, or so they claim. I wouldn't know, I've never been to your country. I was hoping you'd be able to tell us if it's true." She stopped suddenly, which jolted Éomer backwards.

"What?"

"I just remembered. While we're at the docks and in the pub, I'm not Lothíriel, I'm Marrina. Don't call me Lothíriel. If you do, my charade will be revealed, and I'll never be able to just sit around and be one of the customers ever again. Do you understand?" She looked at him with a piercing gaze.

He nodded. "Anonymity is a wonderful respite from many things, my lady."

She shook her head at him. "Don't even call me that. I'm Marrina, you'll address me as such." She began walking again.

"Does anyone else know who you are?" he asked.

Lothíriel nodded. "Erulehton, and his sister, Aela. They own the pub. Bought it from Old Man Saberman a couple years ago. Erulehton took me home one night after I, ahem, overdid it a little, and that's when he found out. He promised not to tell a soul, though." She fell silent, which caused Éomer to wonder if there was more to the story than two friends looking out for one another. He did not ask, though, for he had only met the princess the day before, and besides, moments later, Lothíriel guided him into a building. "Here we are," she said, her voice once more filled with laughter. "Do you want to sit at the bar or a table?"

"The bar would be fine." Éomer looked around as she took him to the bar. The pub was smoky, both from a low fire and many customers with pipes in hand. In one corner, a duo were playing a rather subdued reel on guitar and fiddle. There were several games of checkers and chess going on, as well as a game of poker, the stakes seeming to be who payed for lunch ("You cheated! I saw you take that card out of your sleeve! I'm not paying for yours!").

As Lothíriel walked through the room, there was a chorus of "hallo's" and "ahoy, Marrina's." She smiled gaily and greeted each well-wisher in turn. If Éomer had not known her true identity, he would have found it hard to believe the girl had not grown up in the pub. "Hallo, Erulehton," she said, sliding into an empty barstool.

"Afternoon, Marrina," said the man from behind the bar, winking at her. He was a young man, near in age to Éomer. He had short-cropped hair, a narrow face, and smiling eyes. "Who's your friend?" He gestured to Éomer.

Lothíriel leaned over the bar. "The emissary from Rohan," she whispered conspiratorially. "He's in my keeping until Lord Imrahil and his sons return from Dor-en-Ernil."

"Ah. Welcome, then, Master Horse-lord, to Dol Amroth and Saberman's pub. I'm Erulehton, if Marrina hasn't mentioned it." He stuck out his hand, and Éomer shook it firmly.

"I'm Éomer," he returned, though he eyed the other man warily.

Erulehton nodded and turned back to Lothíriel. "You here for drinks, food, or loitering?" he asked with a grin.

She returned the grin. "How about all three?"

"As you wish. What'll it be?"

"Do you have any of that crab that Valen brought in yesterday?"

"No--" Lothíriel looked crestfallen "--but he brought more this morning. Would you like some?"

"Most definitely." Erulehton nodded curtly and headed into the kitchen.

"Loth--Marrina," Éomer asked quietly, "what is crab?"

"It's a crustacean, a shell-fish. It's very good, I'm sure you'll like it," she assured him. "I love dipping it in butter." She sighed. "It's delicious."

Erulehton reappeared moments later with three large mugs of ale. "Here y'are," he said. "The food'll be out before too much longer. Aela's fixing it right now. Now tell me, Marrina, what have you been up to? I haven't seen you for a few days."

"I've been taking care of Adar's business while he's gone. Not much has happened except the arrival of Théoden-king's emissary. Mostly boring things." She smiled. "What have you been doing?"

"Business as usual," he answered nonchalantly. "How's your sister?"

"Sara's fine. She wanted me to thank you for the stew you and Aela sent. It was greatly appreciated."

"Good, good," he said. "Speaking of Aela, I'd best go check on your food. I'll be back in a minute."

Meanwhile, Éomer had been sitting in silence, watching the customers with little interest. The poker players had finally settled their differences, the supposed cheater agreeing to pay for his own meal. Both games of checkers were over, but one of the chess games was still going strong. Éomer could tell it would probably end in a stalemate. The musicians had begun a song about a girl who fell in love with a sailor. It was bittersweet, for though he gave her many gifts from around the world, the sailor could not marry her ("My life, my love, and my lady is the sea").

"So how are you liking Dol Amroth so far?" asked a voice from behind Éomer. He turned to see a young woman walking out of the kitchen, two plates of what appeared to be long, bony fingers in her hands. She set them down in front of Éomer and Lothíriel. "I'll bring you a bucket, butter, and some shell-crackers in a minute."

"Thank you, Aela," called Lothíriel. She immediately picked up one of the fingers and snapped it easily in half. She took a bite out of it and looked over at Éomer, who was merely staring at his plate. "Well," she said, "are you going to eat?"

He looked at her, incredulous. "You didn't say I'd be eating hands!"

Lothíriel gave him a concerned look and then burst into laughter. Éomer scowled. "It's only crab legs," she explained, "although I could see how someone unused to them would believe them to be hands. Trust me, you're not eating anyone's fingers."

"What's this about fingers?" asked Aela as she walked into the main room again.

Lothíriel burst into laughter again. "Our darling Horse-lord thought you brought him a plate of fingers, rather than crab."

"Oh, I see." She turned to Éomer, a grin upon her face. "I promise you, good sir, that this is the bounty of the sea and there is no one going around missing their hands. At least, not on my account."

Éomer merely blushed and began to crack open a crab leg. It was a most delicious meal, and years later, he would say it was one of the best he'd ever had, despite what followed.

* * *

A/N: how's that for a cliffie? oh yeah...fifty points to the person who knows what song i borrowed the lyrics from.


	6. Shadows

A/N: okies, fifty points to lariren, balrogthane, and aerin-sol for correctly naming the song "brandy (you're a fine girl)." it's not a sea-chanty, lotr-nutcase, it's a song from the 70s. btw, if you are of the weak stomach, you may wish to skip the first five paragraphs. we have a nauseating beginning.

::disclaimer:: i own nothing. not even the song. it's actually a poem from _the adventures of tom bombadil_ called "shadow-bride."

* * *

Chapter VI

The two companions returned to the palace later that afternoon. Perhaps they would have stayed out longer, but Éomer had begun to feel nauseated and Lothíriel thought it would be best if they returned for the evening. Éomer retired to his room, complaining of an upset stomach. Lothíriel offered to bring him some food, but he refused, saying that he would rest. Lothíriel said nothing.

And so he slept, tossing and turning. At one point, he awoke and ran immediately to the bath room, where he promptly vomited into the toilet. It was at this time that Lothíriel chose to bring him food. She quietly opened the door and, seeing that he was not in bed, walked in. She set the bread and cheese she had brought on a table. A dim candle sat on the bedside table. Lothíriel lit another and glanced around.

"Éomer?" she called quietly. A groan from the bath was his only reply. Lothíriel walked over and pushed the door slightly open. Éomer was hunched over the toilet, retching. "Milord, are you alright?"

He shook his head. "I-I--" he retched again.

"Give me but a moment, I will fetch you some water." He may have nodded, but Lothíriel was not certain. She went back into the hall and called for a servant. "I need a pitcher of cold water and a mug of chamomile tea. It would seem Lord Éomer has come down with a stomach condition." The servant nodded and left to do as the princess bid. Lothíriel returned to the room. "A servant is bringing some cold water and some tea to soothe your stomach. Can you stand?"

"Maybe...." He stood shakily, taking the princess's hand to steady himself. Lothíriel led him back to his bed. The servant reappeared with a tray of water, tea, and broth.

"The cook sent some chicken stock as well," he said, placing the tray next to the other food Lothíriel had brought.

"Thank you."

"Anything else, milady?"

"No, that is all." She turned to the tray and poured a glass of water for Éomer. "Here, drink this," she ordered.

"What is it?"

"Water. Now, drink up." She thrust it into his hands. "You really should have told me you were allergic to crab. I wouldn't have made you eat it."

"Haha. You are not funny, princess."

"I wasn't trying to be. Can you eat something and hold it down? I won't have you vomiting on my nightgown." For the first time, Éomer realized that she was indeed dressed only in her nightgown.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly midnight, I think."

"Why are you in here?"

"I wanted to make sure you were all right. It wouldn't do if the emissary from Rohan fell ill."

"Thank you."

"Now, can you eat anything? You really should get something in your stomach if at all possible."

"I think I'll be all right now."

"Good. Have some bread." She handed him the small loaf and then the chicken broth as an afterthought. He ate, and she watched in silence, brushing his hair out of his face. Quietly, she began to croon:

"_There was a man who dwelt alone,_

as day and night went past

he sat as still as carven stone,

and yet no shadow cast.

The white owls perched upon his head

beneath the winter moon;

they wiped their beaks and thought him dead

under the stars of June.

There came a lady clad in grey

in the twilight shining:

one moment she would stand and stay,

her hair with flowers entwining.

He woke, as had he sprung of stone,

and broke the spell that bound him;

he clasped her fast, both flesh and bone,

and wrapped her shadow round him.

There never more she walks her ways

by sun or moon or star;

she dwells below where neither days

nor any nights there are.

But once a year when caverns yawn

and hidden things awake,

they dance together then till dawn

and a single shadow make."

As she drew the song to a close, Lothíriel realized she could not leave. Éomer snored gently, his arm flung around her waist. She tried to move, but he wrapped his arm more securely around her. She sighed heavily and sank lower into the warm bed. Lothíriel's last fleeting thought as she drifted off was that she would need to wake early to avoid scandal.

* * *

A/N (again): sorry this is so short. the next chapter will be longer, i promise!


	7. Good Morning

A/N: it's been awhile, hasn't it? eh, i've been very busy, what with school, baseball season ending (::sniff::), and marching season beginning. plus the second half of this chapter took me some time to write. thank you for all of your wonderful reviews, and i'm so sorry for the delay!

::disclaimer:: if i owned these people, i would have moved to illinois and married my lovely weeks ago. as it is, i must be content with his pic(k) until i can take a roadtrip to quad cities next summer...9 months and counting.

* * *

Chapter VII

The sunlight from the window awoke Éomer the next morning. He shut his eyes tighter and pulled the girl in his arms closer. She stiffened slightly, but then relaxed, and Éomer put his hand just below her breasts, only to have it returned to her stomach. "Oh no you don't," muttered Lothíriel. This declaration jolted Éomer awake, and he sat up quickly. Lothíriel propped herself up on her elbows and grinned. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever let me go. I can finally go to my own room and sleep."

"Wha-what happened?"

"You fell asleep with your arms around me. I didn't want to wake you when you'd just drifted off."

"Yes, but before that. What happened?" Anxiety filled Éomer's voice.

"You were sick. It was the crab, I'm afraid. Don't you remember?"

"Yes, yes. I remember that all too well. But did anything else happen?"

"It depends on what you mean by 'anything else'." Lothíriel struggled not to laugh at the stricken look on Éomer's face.

"My uncle will kill me," he said, falling back onto the bed.

"Why is that?"

"I compromised a princess." He said it as a statement, as if to tell himself what he'd done. "I'm sorry, milady. I don't know what came over me. It won't happen again. I fully understand if you have your father send me back to Rohan for my behavior."

Lothíriel giggled and lay back as well."Why would I have Adar send you away? Many people are allergic to crab. That's no reason to send you home. My cousin Faramir has a horrible reaction to it if he has even the slightest contact with the stuff. Besides, you still haven't told me who this princess of yours is."

"Milady, have you lost your senses?" Éomer sat up again. "I-I--you, I mean, we--didn't we--?"

Lothíriel laughed. "Calm yourself, Éomer. I was only teasing you. Neither of us did anything to impugn the other's honor last night, I assure you. You merely flung an arm around me as you slept, and I did not wish to disturb you." Éomer breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Although, I must admit I rather enjoyed sleeping with you." She grinned again as his face turned red. "I love making you do that," she said as she slid out of the bed. She looked out the window. "It's just past eight, so I'd best be going. Elphir arrives today, and I must look immaculate, else he suspects of our late-night carousing." Éomer began to protest that they weren't "carousing," but then he caught the grin on Lothíriel's face. She began to walk to the door but stopped midway and went back to the balcony. She glanced around, climbed over the railing, and disappeared from sight.

* * *

Éomer wandered the halls of the palace alone for the second time since he had arrived in the city. It was a busy day: many servants darted here and there, running errands and far too preoccupied to notice a young horse-lord still reeling from his first encounter with fruits of the sea. He walked through the open buildings, not really paying attention to where he was. Soon, he found himself at what appeared to be a side entrance to the main square. He looked across the way, where he could see Lothíriel standing with Saeriel and speaking with a tall man. The man was a few years older than Éomer himself and spoke to Lothíriel with such ease that he quickly realized it was Elphir. Éomer glanced around the square and saw that there were about eight other riders there besides Lothíriel's brother. They all looked exhausted, and stablehands rushed around, tending their horses. Éomer fought the urge to help the stablehands, reminding himself that it was improper for an emissary to help the servants no matter what his expertise might be.

These thoughts were interrupted by Lothíriel's clear voice calling, "Master Éomer! There you are! Come here, I want you to meet my bother--I mean, brother." She started to walk toward him, and Éomer moved to meet her. "Elphir, this is Théoden-king's emissary, Éomer. Éomer, my brother."

"Mae govannen, rochir," said Elphir, extending his hand.

"Mae govannen." Éomer grasped his hand and was pulled into an unexpected embrace.

Elphir released him, saying, "Father asked me to go ahead and begin the treaty councils so you might return to your home. He will not be here for another week and did not want to keep you from your homeland longer than necessary."

"I thank you for your consideration," replied Éomer, "but I can wait if need be. The breeding season is over, and my éored can manage fine without me for a few weeks."

"But what Elphir is trying so eloquently not to say is that we want you to leave as soon as humanly possible," interrupted Lothíriel.

Elphir gave his sister a terse look. "That is not true by any stretch of the imagination. You and all of your people are more than welcome here for any length of time."

"Until, of course, you try to take advantage of me." Lothíriel grinned cheekily as Éomer blushed slightly. Elphir merely rolled his eyes.

"Lothíriel, I feel nothing but sympathy for any man who tries to take advantage of you."

"And why is that oh brother of mine?"

"Because you would undoubtedly render him unable."

"Mark his words, Éomer. My brother cannot lie. It's not in his nature." Éomer merely laughed uneasily.

"Indeed," said Elphir. "Now if the two of you will excuse me, I'd like to wash and then visit with my little one and my wife. I will see you at luncheon. Éomer, I trust you to keep her out of trouble." And with that, the heir to the throne of Dol Amroth left the odd pair for the welcome sight of his wife and child.

"Erchirion and Amrothos are not nearly so uppity," Lothíriel said as they watched the little family leave. "Elphir has gotten a big head. I think it's because father lets him govern things on his own sometimes. He forgets that the rest of us have all had turns ruling. Before they joined the cavalry, all three of them governed while father was away. Now I do it when they must all go." She threw her hands up as if to say 'what does it matter?' and turned to Éomer. "Anything in particular you would like to do before lunch?"

"I've never seen the ocean up close," he answered.

Lothíriel grinned. "The ocean it is, then."

* * *

A/N (again): i'm sooo sorry this took me so long. the next chapter will hopefully be up a lot faster. speaking of which, you can expect a REAL trip to the beach.


	8. Sandcastle

**A/N:** this week with personalized reviews...which can be found at the end so you don't have to scroll through them to get to the actual story.

::disclaimer:: i don't own it, je promets! not even the twilmish, which is property of jeffery ford.

* * *

Chapter VIII

The beach was surprisingly empty. Éomer and Lothíriel were totally alone, a fact that Lothíriel was enjoying. "You picked the best time to come to the beach," she said, grinning widely. "There isn't a soul around. Go ahead, kiss me all you want."

Éomer looked alarmed. "If I'd known, I would have suggested something else, I can assure you."

"You lie."

"I do not!"

"Éomer, dearest, we slept together last night. Now, honestly, how can you say that you don't want to kiss me?" She leaned closer to him, shutting her eyes. Éomer stood quickly and moved away. Lothíriel opened her eyes and pouted. "You don't love me, after all. It was all a lie, wasn't it? You just wanted to bed me!"

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, WOMAN!?!" Éomer wanted to shake her into her senses, but was unsure of the possible consequences.

"Nothing of importance, I assure you."

"You are maddening."

"So I'm told." She grinned and flopped onto the sand. "So what do you want to do now that we're at the beach? Swimming is lovely this time of year. Of course, neither one of us is really dressed for swimming, so perhaps we should just wade. Or we could build a sandcastle. Erulehton and Aela and I used to make marvelous sandcastles!"

Éomer considered all three options, weighing the dangers of each. "A sandcastle sounds nice."

"Wonderful. Shall we get started? It could take a while."

* * *

Several hours later, the sun was high in the sky and Éomer was beginning to wonder exactly what he had gotten himself into. Lothíriel had him digging trenches and building walls—neither of which Éomer minded, except for the fact that the walls were far enough apart that two people could sit inside them with room to spare. Éomer wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at what they had accomplished. The castle was phenomenal. They had built it on a bank so that there were two levels, the upper with a great hall and the lower with various small buildings and step-like levels. Indeed, it reminded him of Helm's Deep.

"What should we call it?" asked Lothíriel, stirring him from his thoughts.

"Call it?"

"Every fort has to have a name, even if it is only made of sand. Otherwise, the Twilmish cannot live in it."

"The what?"

"Twilmish. They are the sea spirits that live in sandcastles and forts once they have been built. What is the point in building something if nothing will live in it?" Her logic made so much sense, that Éomer saw no point in trying to say that Twilmish did not exist. "But we have to name the castle before they can come. So what should we call it?"

"It looks like Helm's Deep in the Westfold. It is built into the valley and is one of our best places for defense."

"We can't call it that, though."

"Why not?"

"Helm's Deep already exists. You can't have two of them. It would confuse the Twilmish."

"What about Helm's Deep in Elvish? Can you translate it?"

"Maybe, though it's hard when a name is involved."

"You're being picky on purpose aren't you?"

"I knew you'd catch on eventually. Besides, the Twilmish are even more picky. If they don't like the name, they won't live in the castle, and then it won't last as long."

"Oh." Éomer was beginning to think that Lothíriel was over-doing the Twilmish belief, but he knew better than to try to reason with her.

"Caradhon Anor," she said suddenly. "The Castle of the Sun. What do you think?"

"Ceaster Æfnung." He scratched his beard as if considering it and grinned. "It sounds beautiful in all three languages. It's perfect."

"But which one do we call it officially?"

"The Elvish one...Caradlon Anar?"

"Cara_dhon_ A_nor_. And yes, that fits well." She grinned. "And speaking of the sun, I believe it's past noon. Elphir will be wondering what has happened to us."

"We should go, then."

* * *

It turned out that Elphir had seen them building their castle and knew that they would be late for luncheon. Being such a kind and considerate brother, he had their meal postponed until Lothíriel and Éomer returned.

"I am sure you two enjoyed your morning in the sun?" he said as they walked into the hall with sand in their hair.

"Of course, dear brother, though it appears that he--" she gestured to Éomer "—got a little too much sun."

Elphir looked at him and grimaced. "You'll want to put something on that."

"What?"

"Your face," Lothíriel said, "it's sun-burned. I'm sorry, I should have told you to put something on it earlier." Éomer put his hand to his face. It was considerably warmer than usual, and it wasn't because Lothíriel had embarrassed him this time. "I'll get you some aloe for it, but let's eat first, alright?" He nodded.

Lunch was fairly quiet, with just the three of them. Saeriel had chosen to eat earlier so she could put Alphros down for a nap. Éomer hardly spoke, allowing Lothíriel and Elphir to dominate what little conversation they had.

"Father will return in a week, you said?" asked Lothíriel.

"Aye. They're negotiating with the bandits, trying to work out a compromise that everyone will be happy with. Erchirion is leading the endeavour to reach something, of course."

Lothíriel smiled. "He ever was the pacifist."

When Elphir spoke again, it was quietly and only to his sister. "Lothíriel, I want you to be careful not to get too attached to yon horse-lord. There are rumors that the Rohirrim have been giving aide to the shadows in Mordor. Father does not believe them, but Lord Denethor...." He glanced at Éomer as he trailed off.

"Brother, I do not believe anything that our most esteemed uncle deems truth. You know that." She paused and then continued, whispering, "Besides, I just wanted to make him comfortable while he waited for you and Adar. It would have been quite odd to let him wander around the palace for two days without any companions."

"You could have sent one of the pages or squires to show him around the palace."

"All of whom are at least ten years younger than he," she replied heatedly. "Brother, do not doubt my judgment. I am not a little girl anymore. Now if you'll excuse me." She threw her napkin onto her plate and left the room.

Elphir took a deep breath and released it in a cough. "We can begin negotiations on the morrow, I think. You need some salve for that sun-burn." Éomer nodded silently, wondering what had set off the princess so. Though he had known her for only three days, he was certain that she did not anger easily. He shook his head and excused himself to go to his room.

* * *

**A/N (again): **and now for those replies i promised.

**soccer-bitch:** thank you!

**elegant couture:** thank you, as well, and i'm glad you like her.

**lariren-shadow:** my summer crush was a ballplayer for the rookie team we have...he's gone back to rohan (er...illinois). on names: there's a baby-name site that i use, but if you're talking about aela, i came up with it myself. i get the elvish names from councilofelrond's name database (they have both elvish and rohirric names listed).

**lotr-nutcase:** no fishing...that's your story..lol. and if i knew how she was so at ease around him, i'd be the first to use her method. if she ever reveals the secret, i'll be sure to let you know.

**shallindra:** a real trip it is!

**rana ninque:** i don't know that she's perfect, but thanks anyways. and yeah, tmmdts is darker. glad you like elphy!

**lirima tindomiel:** slackers of the world unite! lol..i haven't been slacking on purpose, just been very busy.

**eokat:** yeah...deep-sea horse-lords???

**lionel joseph:** you are my hero! thank you thank you thank you for the info on horse-breeding. now i know what time of year would be good for eomer to be in dol amroth..lol. thank you again!

**childofGod-4ever:** thankies, and i know this isn't exactly quickly, but i'll try to get the rest up faster.


	9. Anger

**A/N:** lookie! a longer chapter! complete with twists and review response at the end! and i think this is the last time i'll have a note at the beginning. now they'll all be at the bottom, unless there's something really important that needs to be said at the beginning.

::disclaimer:: if i owned eomer, i would be living in ecstasy. as it is, i'm living in boredom.

* * *

Chapter IX

An arm grabbed Éomer the moment he stepped out of the dining hall. "Come on, we have to put something on your face, else it will blister horribly, and believe me, you do not want that to happen." Lothíriel began to half-guide, half-drag him down the hallway. Éomer could tell that she was still angry with whatever Elphir had said; on more than one occasion, Éowyn had acted in much the same manner. The two came to a halt in front of Lothíriel's room. "Wait here," she said and left him in the hall.

A few minutes later, she returned carrying a bottle of some sort of lotion. "We'll go back to your room to put this on you. That way, you can lie down afterward." She took his hand again and led him through the corridors to his room. When they reached it, she opened the door and bade him sit on a chair. "This might sting for a moment, but it will feel better after a bit," she said, opening the bottle and pouring a white-blue lotion into her hand. "Hold this." She handed him the bottle. "You really should have told me you burn so easily," she reprimanded as she spread the cool liquid over his face. "I could have saved you some pain."

"I usually don't," he answered, shuddering slightly at the feel of her hand and the lotion against his warm skin.

"Just because you don't burn in the mountains doesn't mean you won't at the ocean. The climate is different, the air is more humid, and the sun is far hotter. My cousins have to put handfuls of lotion on every day when they are here, and they are both rangers in the east!"

"I will remember that next time," he said. He paused and then spoke again. "Why did you leave lunch so suddenly?"

Lothíriel huffed. "Elphir was being...overbearing, as older brothers have a habit of being."

"I am an older brother."

"And I daresay that your poor brother or sister often wishes that you weren't so domineering at times."

"My sister. Her name is Éowyn. She lives in Edoras, whereas I currently live in Aldburg, so I don't think she'll have to worry about it so much." He fell silent, wondering if he could convince his uncle to let Éowyn come to Aldburg. At least there she would be safe from Gríma Wormtongue.

"How old is your sister?" Lothíriel asked, bringing him from his thoughts.

"She is twenty-two, four years younger than I."

"So you are both older than I am! Erchirion and Elphir are older than you, but Amrothos is only twenty-four. We should introduce our siblings to one another."

Éomer laughed. "I highly doubt that any of your brothers would be very interested in my sister, and I know that she would not care for them. My sister is as dangerous as a wild horse: unpredictable, unintimidated, and untameable."

"You are right, then. Amrothos does not like horses. He much prefers the sea."

"But I thought you said he joined the cavalry."

"Yes, but only because Adar would not let him join the navy. He said it was too dangerous for one of his sons to be out on the sea. What if there were a squall and the ship sank? We would never see him again." She shrugged. "They went back and forth for a while and finally reached a compromise: he stays in the cavalry for a year, and then he can join the navy."

Éomer nodded. "It makes sense."

"I think Adar was rather hoping that Amrothos would decide the cavalry was not so bad after all." She smiled. "It's been nine months, and all he can do is stare out at the sea. He has the sea-longing—it's from the Elvish blood in our people. Elphir had it, too, until he met Saeriel."

"Your brother doesn't trust me."

Lothíriel stopped her ministrations. "What makes you say that?"

"I saw the way he looked at me, as if I was nothing more than a brutish soldier-for-hire. As if I only wished to take advantage of you." He scowled. "I may be a foreigner, but that does not mean I'm barbaric."

"You should lie down," she said. "The salve needs to soak in." She led him towards his bed. "You'll have to stay indoors for the rest of the day. And be more careful next time."

"Yes, mother."

She rolled her eyes. "I am younger than you, you know."

"Yet you treat me like a truant page."

She laughed. "You really should get some rest." She leaned closer to him, as if to kiss him, thought better of it, and exited the room.

* * *

Lothíriel returned to the dining hall, where Elphir was still sitting. "Elphir, you are the most inconsiderate wretch in the world."

"What?"

"Not only do you insult our guest's integrity by suggesting that he would take advantage of me, but you insult his people by spreading gossip while he sat across the table from you!"

"Lothíriel," he answered, "may I remind you that you were the one who suggested that he might take advantage of you, not I. And I am beginning to believe that perhaps he already has. You spent the night in his room."

Her eyes went wide. "How did--? Who told you that?"

"Then it is true?"

She blushed and looked away. "It was an accident. He was ill, and I brought him some soup. He fell asleep with an arm thrown around my waist. I did not want to wake him."

"If it was so chaste as you claim, then why did you sneak out by using the balcony?"

"I was in a hurry. It was faster to go through the gardens than to walk through the halls."

"And I daresay it was faster for Erulehton to go through the gardens to return to his bed than for him to go through the halls."

"Have you been spying on me?" she asked. "It is none of your business what I do or don't do."

"Lothíriel, when you indulge in that sort of behaviour, it becomes my business. What will you do when you are married? I doubt any man would want such a wanton woman for a wife." Lothíriel smacked him.

"How dare you suggest that I am a wanton woman! Elphir, I did nothing with either Éomer or Erulehton. You can ask them both. I can explain both happenings. If you didn't notice, the night Erulehton was in my room was the anniversary of Naneth's death. I was in the fisherman's quarter, and I had too much wine. He brought me back to the castle. Last night, I took Éomer down to Saberman's for some crab. He got sick, like Faramir does, and I took care of him afterwards. I felt awful for subjecting him to that."

"Stay away from him, Lothíriel. Even if he is as harmless as you claim, he will be gone in a matter of weeks. Guard your heart against him. I do not want to see it broken because a _rochir_--" he spat the word like a curse "—has taken it from you." And with that, the eldest son of Imrahil left the hall, leaving Lothíriel to reel in the lingering fog of her anger.

* * *

After several minutes of just standing there, she left the hall as well, taking the route she had used earlier. She was surprised to have a hand grab her arm, and she would have cried out, but then she saw the now-familiar face of Éomer. He put a finger to his lips and let her outside, to the gardens. "Where are we going?" she whispered.

He shook his head and merely continued walking quickly until they reached the fountain garden. He turned to face her. "I should leave," he said.

"Why?"

"Your brother hates me, that is quite obvious."

"You were spying on us! Honestly, you are no better than he is!"

Éomer was unfazed by the attack on his character. "I should return home. My éored needs me. My sister needs me."

"What are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter. I need to go home."

"But, Éomer, you haven't even had a chance to start negotiations on a trade route."

He shook his head again. "It wouldn't matter. Lothíriel, I don't know how sheltered you are here in this secluded haven of yours, but you must know: we are on the brink of war. There have been orc raids on my people almost every day. I was promoted because the former Marshal was killed. They steal our black horses. I have one of the few left. I was sent to these negotiations not to plan a trade route, but to try to secure an ally. I was not sent by the king. I was sent by his son, my cousin Théodred. My uncle does not know that I am here. As far as he knows, I am with my éored. One of my captains has been filling in for me. You are the only person besides Théodred, Éothain, and myself that knows the truth. Not even Éowyn knows."

She furrowed her brow. "So you lied to us? You lied to my father? You came seeking military aide and not trade? And when were you going to tell him this?"

"As soon as I possibly could."

"We have to tell Elphir."

"Why must we do that?" He began to panic. The last thing he wanted was for Elphir to influence Imrahil's decision.

"He will find out anyway. He always joins Adar in political talks. He even takes over sometimes. I told you, Adar made sure we all learned diplomacy. I often sit in as well."

Éomer sat down on a bench, his head in his hands. "I've made a mess of things. I should have refused, or told Théodred to send Éothain instead. It's a good thing I will never be a ruler. I'd bring the country to ruins."

Lothíriel smiled at his anguish. "It's not that bad," she said. "If you are a fool, at least you know you are one. I've seen nobility who have no idea what sort of problems they've caused."

He looked at her. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

She laughed. "It can be whatever you like. Now come, you need to get out of the sun. Your sunburn will never heal if you stay outside all the time. Besides, we have to figure out how to present this to my brother without him exploding in our faces."

* * *

**A/N:** how's that for a nice little twist? bet you weren't expecting that, huh?

**lotr-nutcase:** i'm sticking to the appendices timeline. but never fear, the story won't drag on forever (unlike tmmdts). i have it all planned out.

**lariren:** the 21st is **always** a good day, no matter what month it is.

**lady-hades:** i'm glad she makes you laugh. and never fear, things will start happening before too much longer.

**god:** as i said to lady-hades, things will start happening before too much longer.

**eokat:** but isn't it her job to cause problems? and yeah, i like the idea of eomer building sandcastles, too.


	10. Sleep

::disclaimer:: did you know i'm a long-lost descendant of tolkien? yeah, my dad was kidnapped and taken from england to east tennessee. and if you believe that crap, you're more gullible than i thought.

* * *

Chapter X

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the library, Lothíriel reading stories from a book of Númenor and Beleriand to Éomer. With the combination of the lazy afternoon and Lothíriel's decadent voice, it should be little surprise that he fell asleep with his head in her lap.

It was some hours before he awoke. Lothíriel had shifted so that her legs were upon the couch and her head rested upon his chest. Éomer smiled in amusement as she snored quietly. He considered moving, but decided that she was much too serene to be disturbed. Besides, he enjoyed feeling her warmth against him. He lifted his head slightly and looked at her. Serene, indeed. She looked ethereal, her hair splayed about her. Éomer brushed a lock from her face, causing her to stir.

She yawned and sat up. "That was a lovely nap," she said sleepily, "but I fear my legs have fallen asleep."

"I am sorry." Éomer sat up, trying to remove his weight from her legs. Unfortunately, Lothíriel moved at the same time, and their heads collided. They both sat rubbing their foreheads and burst into laughter.

"That should teach us to fall asleep together," Lothíriel said, smiling. "Are you alright?" She leaned closer to him.

"I'm fine, thank you," he answered, leaning slightly forward.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Quite sure. Are you alright?" She shook her head. "Let me see, then," he said. "Where are you hurt?"

"Here." She pointed to her forehead. Éomer brushed her hair out of the way and felt for bumps.

"You'll have a knot, but other than that, I think you'll be fine."

"But it hurts," she breathed.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Make it better." She grinned impishly.

"And how am I--? Oh." He sighed. "Very well." He lowered her head slightly and kissed her forehead. "There. All better?"

"No."

"Where else?"

"Here." She pointed to her temple. "And here." Her jaw line. "And here." Her lips.

Éomer complied with her wishes, lingering on her lips. She returned the kiss, deepening it almost instantly. She moved slightly, shifting to a more comfortable position on the couch and releasing her hold on Éomer for a split second. That brief moment away from her was all he needed to return to his senses. She began to kiss him again, but he quickly pulled away. "No," he said huskily. "We cannot."

"Why not?" she asked. "We already have."

"Lothíriel, you are a princess, and I am just a soldier. It wouldn't be right. Especially not with your brother hating me as he does. Besides, we hardly know each other."

"But we've slept together!" she exclaimed. "Twice!"

"That doesn't mean anything, Lothíriel. We didn't really sleep together."

"Hmph," she sniffed and moved away, crossing her arms. "I suppose you are right. You men always let reason get in the way of good fun. I wonder what time it is." She changed subjects so quickly, Éomer almost did not realize it. She stood and went to a window, pushing the shutters open. "The sun is low," she said, gesturing toward the west. "It is probably near time for dinner. Shall we go?"

Éomer's stomach growled in answer. He stood and offered her his arm, but she did not accept it. "We should probably come from different parts of the palace, otherwise Elphir will know that we have been together all afternoon. You go straight there, and I will go to my rooms and wait for a few minutes before coming down."

"I will see you at dinner, then," he said, and wandered off toward the dining hall.

* * *

"Éomer," said Elphir as he walked into the dining hall, "I haven't seen you all afternoon. Where have you been?"

"I was reading in the library and fell asleep." Though it was not the entire truth, it was definitely not a lie.

"Ah, a wonderful place to spend an afternoon. Tomorrow you shall have to join me at the training grounds. I am very interested in seeing the training methods of your people." Éomer could detect a slight threat in the words of the Prince's son.

"I shall be there," he answered.

"Good evening, Lord Éomer," said a voice from behind him. He turned and was greeted by the sight of Saeriel holding her son. "I am glad to see you will be joining us for dinner. We missed you last night."

He smiled uneasily at the reminder of his earlier illness. "I am glad to be joining you, milady. But please, call me Éomer, I am no noble lord."

She laughed slightly. "You are far too humble to be nobility." She glanced around. "But where is Lothíriel? She appointed herself your guide, did she not?"

"I have not seen her for some time, milady," he answered as the three of them sat at the table.

"Elphir?" she asked, looking at her husband. "Have you seen her?"

"Not since lunch, my love." He looked at Éomer with ill-concealed suspicion. "I would assume that she went swimming or riding."

"You would guess correctly on both accounts, brother." Everyone at the table looked up to see Lothíriel in the doorway, her hair damp and curly. She was dressed in a simple frock, slightly dirty, that clung to her arms and legs, accenting her figure. "It was far too lovely a day to stay inside, so I took Manbechír. I meant to ask if Éomer would join me, but he was not in his rooms, so I went on my own." She came into the room and took a seat between Saeriel and Éomer. "What are we having?" she asked. "I'm famished."

"I think it's chicken with noodles and potatoes," answered Saeriel. "They have promised not to make any seafood dishes without having an alternative."

"That is kind of them," said Lothíriel. "What have you done today, Éomer?" she asked, turning to him.

"I fell asleep in the library, reading about Túrin Túrambar. It was not dull, but the atmosphere was so relaxing and the couch so comfortable that I could not keep my eyes open."

The meal was pleasant. Éomer ate to his heart's content and then wished that he had not eaten quite so much. Their stomachs full, Elphir, Saeriel, and little Alphros retired to their cottage, bidding the other two good night. "Do not forget we have an appointment on the practice field tomorrow," Elphir said as he left.

"I await it with great anticipation," answered Éomer. Lothíriel turned to him with a question in her eyes. "He asked me to join him," Éomer explained. "I could hardly decline."

"I suppose not," she said quietly. "I do hope that Adar returns soon. Elphir takes good care of the city, but Adar remembers the smaller details."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, it's nothing," she said. "I will see you tomorrow, then? I wanted to go down to Saberman's and visit Aela." She stood to leave.

"Lothíriel, wait!"

"Yes?" She turned around.

"What you told your brother, about you riding and swimming, how did you manage to make it appear so?"

"Oh that?" she laughed. "I just pulled one of my riding frocks from my dirty clothes and wet my hair in the bath. It's an easy enough cover for when I have been...misbehaving."

"And would you have honestly asked me to go with you, if that had been your true plan?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied. "The city is beautiful, but you have not had a chance to see the plains surrounding it. There is more to my home than marble and ocean."

* * *

**  
A/N:** and there you have it. sorry this has taken so long. we had our first band competition yesterday, and things have been very busy the past couple of weeks. plus, i've got an idea for the story, but i need your opinions! i'm thinking about writing two endings to this story. the first one (which will be included in this no matter what) will be the book-verse lothiriel and eomer get married, have kids, etc. the other one will be much darker, and feature some very AU stuff (including the death of eowyn and the fall of rohan). so what do you guys think? should i write them both or stick with just the happy ending?  
  
**Review Replies:**

**lariren: **the 21st is always a good day for many reasons: number one, it's erulehton's jersey number, as well as his age. number two, it's the legal drinking age. number three, it's my lucky number (because of number one). and there are several other reasons too long and complicated to explain here.

**eokat: **you aren't supposed to like him. and i rather expect you'll begin to despise him as the story progresses.

**nutcase: **yeah, that was my second poor attempt at foreshadowing (the first being the dream).

**blue eyes: **i love your username! and thanks!

**soccer:** as always, thanks! you've been a very faithful reviewer for a long time.

**hotdogfish:** elphir's not gonna kick him out (though i daresay he might try if he knew what lothiriel's cooking up). thanks for the suggestion anyways..lol.

**prettyfoot:** of course there will be a reunion! they have to wait until after the war to get married!

**rana:** blushes thank you. my story isn't all that well-planned, though. i needed a reason for elphir to not like eomer, and i remembered the rumors. and that twist about making allegiances? it was spur-of-the-moment, so i didn't expect it either. i'm glad i fooled you, though.

as always, thank you to everyone who reviews. you guys are deeply appreciated. much love to all!


	11. Fights

::disclaimer:: i own none of the characters mentioned in this chapter. i only own their personalities. the rest is © tolkien enterprises.

* * *

Chapter XI

Éomer awoke to the sound of someone singing outside his window once again. He rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed, making his way to the balcony. He stuck his head over the ledge and glared down at Lothíriel. "Do not tell me that you have forgotten already that this is my room," he called down to her. "I thought you promised not to wake me like that again."

"I never promised you anything," she answered, grinning up at him. "Besides, I thought you'd appreciate it if I woke you before Elphir did. He has a habit of beating down the door when he wakes people. Much ruder than singing them awake, wouldn't you agree?"

Éomer merely grunted and began to walk away when suddenly someone started banging on his door. The sound startled him, and he knocked over a small table.

"Lord Éomer, are you awake?" It was indeed Elphir, beating down the door as Lothíriel had said he was wont to do.

"Aye!" Éomer shouted back, cursing under his breath.

"Good. I'm coming in." The doorknob turned and in walked Elphir, fully dressed and looking as if he were going to observe his troops. "You are not dressed," he said, sounding surprised and a bit annoyed.

"You will have to excuse me for not waking before the sun. It is not my habit to wake early merely to dress myself in finery." He clenched his jaw.

Elphir scowled. "I will see you at the training fields in half an hour. I have no patience for late arrivals."

"Indeed." Éomer scowled back. Elphir drew himself up self-righteously and left. Éomer returned to the balcony. "Lothíriel," he called, "where have you gone?" He looked around, but it appeared that the princess had gone her own way. He sighed and turned to go back inside. He jumped back almost immediately.

"You should be careful on these balconies," said Lothíriel, who stood in front of him, "you could fall off, and then what would we say to your uncle?" She smiled widely.

"H-how?" sputtered Éomer.

She shook her head. "A princess should never reveal her secrets. She might be telling an enemy the fastest way out of the palace." She kissed his cheek. "Maybe I'll tell you when you're older."

"I'm older than you," he countered. She walked into his room and headed straight for his chest of clothes.

"Yes, but it doesn't mean you're smarter. What you just said to Elphir is likely to get you into more trouble than you're worth. I won't be at the training grounds, and even if I was, I couldn't stop Elphir from beating you to a pulp."

"I am not weak, princess," he said, suddenly defensive.

"Yes, but neither is Elphir. You have never seen him fight. I have. Listen to me, he doesn't like you."

"I know it well."

"Here, put this on." She threw him a shirt. She continued as he pulled it over his head, "He does like Erchirion, but that doesn't stop him from taking every possible advantage when they train together. Be careful when you fight. It will just be a mock-fight, but you will both walk away with bruises. Elphir does not tire quickly; he has great endurance, though his blows are not as strong as some. He will favor his right side, it is his stronger arm. I do not know what kind of weapon he will choose, so I hope you know how to wield a glaive."

"A what?"

She sighed exasperatedly. "A glaive. It is like a short spear with a cutlass blade instead of a spearhead. You can use it as you would a spear, a sword, or even a sword if you know what you are doing. Believe me, Elphir knows what he's doing."

"You make this sound like a duel to the death."

"It could be."

"But you just said that it will be a mock-fight."

"Yes, but I doubt that either of your egos will come out of it un-harmed."

"You worry too much, Lothíriel."

She scowled. "If I knew that one of you would keep a cool head, I wouldn't worry so much. I know how Elphir gets, and I suspect you are the same way. Now go, Elphir will not forgive you if you are late."

"Very well. Do I have time to eat something?"

"I brought you this." She held out an apple. "Take care, and meet me in the fountain garden afterwards. I'll be waiting for you with bandages and a needle and thread. Who knows what injuries you'll be afflicted with!"

"Thank you, I think."

"Take care."

He kissed her forehead. "I will be fine. I promise."

* * *

"I was beginning to wonder if you would arrive before luncheon."

"You gave me half an hour. I still have five minutes," answered Éomer.

"Then I suggest you find yourself a weapon," said Elphir. "I have chosen a glaive. What will you take? A stick? A rock?"

"Have you any decent practice swords?"

"We only use the best."

"Good, I would expect no less from the famed Princes of Dol Amroth." Éomer paused. "Will you show me where they are?"

"This way." Elphir led him into the armory shed. "The smaller ones are over here." He indicated the left side of the wall.

Éomer smiled and moved directly to the right. "Thank you for pointing that out. Those are much too small for my taste." He chose a large wooden sword, obviously supposed to be a long sword. "I believe this one will do."

"Very well, if you will join me in the practice ring?"

"With pleasure."

The two men exited the armory and went to an empty practice ring. Elphir was the first to speak. "The rules are simple. You face off as in a normal fight, but do not inflict more injury upon the opponent than necessary. The last to fall is victor."

"Do we shake upon it or do we take each other's word for it?"

"Is your word good?"

"Is yours?"

"Then we shall begin," answered Elphir.

The two men circled each other, neither trying to spar with the other. "How is it," Elphir said, a glare on his face, "that one so young and inexperienced became one of the highest-ranking officers in Rohan's cavalry? Whose wives did you bed to get your position?"

Éomer snarled and attacked Elphir's left flank. "I bed no man's wife."

Elphir parried Éomer's blow and returned it with an overhead slice. "And why should I believe that? You bedded my sister quickly enough."

"I did not bed your sister!" They thrust and parried, neither giving leeway. "I was ill. She took care of me. That is all."

"If you say so." Elphir did another overhead thrust; this time, Éomer barely parried in time. "That still does not explain your promotion. Did you kill for it?"

"I would never kill one of my own people. How dare you insult my honor by even suggesting such! If you must know—" he accented his words with a series of blows "—my uncle is the king. I trained with the best soldiers in the land and moved up quickly in the cavalry. The former marshal retired last wintertide. He appointed me to take his place." The moment he said this, Éomer knew it was a mistake. He had let Elphir distract him. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back, looking up at Elphir.

"Some soldier you are," he sneered. "I worry for your people if you are one of the highest-ranking soldiers. I can only imagine how weak the rest are."

That was the last straw for Éomer. He pushed himself up and tackled Elphir, pinning him to the ground. "Why do you not trust me?" he asked, holding the older man beneath him.

"I trust no one who deals with the Dark Lord, _rochir_," Elphir spat.

"I do not deal with the Dark Lord."

"Then your king does. Where else would He get so many swift horses?"

"My uncle is not so far gone that he would trade with the Dark Lord." Éomer began to punch Elphir in the face. "You know nothing, if that is what you think."

"Then you agree," said Elphir, throwing Éomer over his head, "that your uncle is quite mad?" The older man stood, his fists clenched.

Éomer crouched on the ground, glaring up at Elphir. "My uncle is not mad. Elderly, yes, but not mad."

Elphir laughed out loud, despite the blood pouring from his nose. "He is not that much older than my father, and you call him elderly?"

Éomer scowled. "You have no respect for your betters, princeling. My uncle is a king, and he is not as strong as he used to be. You hold that against him."

"I am far better than you, marshal. I am no barbarian."

"My people are not barbarians!" Éomer shouted. "No, we are not as regal and arrogant as you in your marble palace, but that does not mean we have no pride. We are just as proud as you, you filthy nædre!"

"How dare you call me that!" exclaimed Elphir. In an instant, he was on top of Éomer, punching at him. They scuffled around the courtyard, throwing hard blows at one another.

"Elphir! What are you doing?" It was Saeriel, and she ran toward the two men with a distressed look on her face. "What in the world—? A page came to me with news that a fight had broken out in the training grounds and that you were involved in it, but I had no idea...." She trailed off while the two men stood looking at the ground rather sheepishly. "Honestly, I don't know what to make of this. Lord Éomer, go to the healing houses, you have blood all over your face. Elphir—" she glared at her husband "—I will take care of you."

Éomer was rather glad that Saeriel had given him leave to find a healer; he was quite certain that Elphir was wishing that their places were switched. He bowed his head slightly to the formidable woman and left the arena with as much dignity as he could muster. Once out of sight, he began to half-run to the fountain garden where Lothíriel was waiting.

* * *

**A/N:** dang, that took a while. this is a nice, long chapter (nearly five pages typed!) for you guys, i hope you appreciate it. i've decided to stick with the happy ending. i may write a dark fic sometime, but it won't be attached to this one. and since several of you reviewed my ficlet, i've got replies for both last chapter and it. speaking of which, i'm not sure if you all caught on to this or not, but it's a companion piece to this story (remember aela?). it takes place later on (obviously)...just as the rohirrim make their charge on the pelennor and eowyn defeats the witch-king. but, i haven't decided if i should add to it or not. i need your suggestions!

**Review Replies:**

**eokat:** i'm glad you enjoyed the ficlet. i enjoyed writing it. i'm also glad you liked the head-bumping. and you were right, elphir was up to no good.

**soccer-bitch: **as always, thanks for the reviews. but i don't know if the ficlet will be continued. it might just stay a one-shot. i haven't decided.

**dancin' over the edge:** i'm glad you think she's becoming more and more real. it means i'm escaping the black hole of sue-ism. it seems like that passage is everyone's second-favorite. my fave is the passage right after the defeat of the witch-king, when eomer finds eowyn on the field. it's so beautiful.

**pretty-foot:** thank you!

**lotr-nutcase:** as i said to soccer, i'm thinking about continuing the ficlet. it depends on the plot bunnies. thanks for the reviews! and we really need to get that e/l blogring started.

**lady hades:** i laughed so hard when i read your review. i was having a bad day and it really cheered me up. and yeah, she's sneakier than smeagol/gollum. haha.

**hotdogfish:** i don't know if this update is that much quicker than the last (i don't remember), but i think i'll definitely stick with the happy ending. and i'll try to keep updating on weekends...it depends on how busy i am.

**angelofthenightwatchers:** quick! get out your family tree! ::points at random place on tree:: do you have a cousin named horacio ignacious codswallop? because i do... thanks for the review!

**lirima tindomiel:** i'm a romantic, too, but every now and then, i have a dark streak. and yes, evil characters should always die! thanks for the review!

**c'est magnifique:** the reason eowyn was going to die was because that's what happened in tolkien's original drafts. she and aragorn fell in love, and she dies, and he wanders middle earth for the rest of his life. mine was going to be similar, but eomer would have died and lothiriel ended up being the one that wandered m-e forever. also, i don't think i mentioned boromir in my ficlet, did i? i couldn't find it...

**lariren-shadow:** you have no idea how convenient it is that they keep falling asleep together. i haven't decided if it'll happen again...but it might.

**rana ninque:** don't worry, they'll get married. and the title kind of signifies that it's before the war, like the calm, happy time before the storm falls. make sense? and i hope i exceeded your expectations with the training grounds. i enjoyed writing this chapter a lot.

**holly arwen granger:** you reviewed the ficlet, but i don't know if you'll see this. i'm glad you liked it, but as i said before, i haven't decided if i'm going to continue it or not.


	12. Healing

::disclaimer:: if i owned this, i'd be getting it published professionally. you know that. unfortunately, this is the best i can do. also, i borrowed the story of tristan and isolde from bart marks. i have no rights to it. however, note that i changed a couple names (king mark, queen isolde, and isolde of the white hands), both to keep the ardan feel and to avoid confusion (too many isoldes!).

* * *

Chapter XII

"There you are at last!" cried Lothíriel when Éomer came into view. "But what in the world—? What did you do?"

"Your brother insulted myself, my people, and my uncle," he answered, trying to staunch the blood pouring from his nose. "He hates me for certain now. Lady Saeriel is the one who stopped us."

Lothíriel closed her eyes as if trying to suppress a headache. "You are lucky that Adar is not here. He likely would have clapped you both in irons. But come, let me look at your 'battle wounds'." She picked up a satchel and began to search its contents. "Ah," she said, pulling out a small bottle, "here it is. Witch hazel. It will help to lessen the swelling." She poured some of the liquid onto a cloth. "This may sting a bit."

She dabbed it onto his face, and Éomer jerked back. "A bit?" he exclaimed. "It burns!"

"Well it's your own fault for getting into a fight with my brother in the first place," she said primly. "I rather think you deserve it."

"Hmph," he said, but allowed her to continue her ministrations.

"So how bad does Elphir look?" she asked, wrapping his knuckles.

Éomer shrugged uncomfortably. "I think I might have broken his nose."

"Really?" she said with some amusement. "I hope Adar doesn't ask too much about it then. I would hate for you to lose your credibility because you had a fist-fight with my brother."

"Agh. Don't remind me." Éomer hung his head. "I still do not know how to tell him that I am not here for the trade alliance. Have you any suggestions?" He looked at her hopefully.

Lothíriel shook her head. "The only thing you can really do is tell Adar the entire truth as soon as possible."

"Yes, I know that. I meant your brother. He will probably say that I am trying to draw away the strength of your knights, which is the last thing I want to do. I just want to help my uncle before...." He trailed off.

"Before what?" asked Lothíriel.

"My uncle does not fare well," Éomer answered slowly. "Théodred and I both fear that he will not last much longer."

"I am sorry," she said quietly. "But I think I have a solution to the problem with Elphir. Do not tell him. At this point, telling him anything would only make matters worse. When Adar returns, ask for a private council with him. He will likely send Elphir out if you request it. Tell him then, and let him decide what to do. That way, Elphir will not influence him too greatly." She tied the last bandage and sat back slightly, admiring her handiwork. "There," she said, "you're all fixed up now. Just promise me you won't get into any more fights if you can help it. It would be best if we do not have to send a battered and bruised horse-lord back to Rohan."

* * *

Again, Éomer and Lothíriel spent the day together. They packed a meal of bread and cheese and meat (and unbeknownst to Éomer, a bottle of the finest Amrothian wine) and set off for the hills surrounding the grand city. It was a lovely day for a ride, and Éomer was glad for the chance to exercise his horse, Firefoot, who had not been outside of the palace stablegrounds since his arrival in Dol Amroth.

The two companions raced among the hills, trailing laughter behind them. At last they arrived at a small stream where Lothíriel reined in her horse and dismounted. "We'll stop here for lunch," she sad, breathless.

Éomer nodded and likewise slid off his mount. They stood in a small valley. To the east, the mountains loomed, and from them flowed the stream. It was a well-shaded place; many willows grew alongside the water, creating a cool haven for a traveler on a warm day.

"Éomer?" Lothíriel's voice caught him off guard.

"Sorry, what?"

She smiled slightly. "Will you hand me the picnic basket?"

"Of course." He walked over to Firefoot, unstrapped the basket from the great horse's back, and returned to where Lothíriel sat. "Here you are."

"Thank you." She set about emptying its contents, displaying each item as she went. "We have bread fresh from the royal kitchens, and delicious sharp cheese from the dairy. Of course, a picnic would not truly be a picnic without smoked fish for the sea-farer, and salted beef for those who have not the stomach for fish." She grinned at Éomer as she stuck her hand back into the basket. "And what's this?" she exclaimed. "A bottle of wine? Why, milord Éomer, how did you manage to pilfer wine from Saberman's? I didn't think I left you alone when we visited the other day!"

He protested, "I didn't pilfer any—"

"Goblets, I know," she interrupted. She sighed. "I suppose we'll just have to drink it straight from the bottle. You don't mind, do you? I promise I'm not ill."

"No, Lothíriel, I—"

"I'm glad. I would hate to be the only one to enjoy the wine."

"I—Lothíriel, I didn't take the wine. You know that."

"How in the world would I know that?" she asked, all innocence.

"Because you took it," he answered, rolling his eyes.

"I thought we needed something to liven the picnic up a bit," she said. "I honestly meant to pack goblets, though."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm sure."

She smiled and popped the cork and took a long swig. "Would you like some?"

He gave her a considering look and then sighed. "I might as well." He took the bottle from her and tipped his head back, relishing the sweetness. It tasted of summer and sunshine and happiness. "It's good," he said, wiping his face on his sleeve.

"Only the finest." Lothíriel took another sip and then commenced breaking the bread and cheese into portions. "Wine should not go uncomplemented," she said, handing a chunk of bread to Éomer.

They ate their meal in relative silence, listening to the sounds of the stream flowing by and the birds singing in the trees. When they finished, they both lay back on the blanket, enjoying the peace. Éomer was nearly asleep when Lothíriel spoke. "Tell me a story," she said.

"Of what?" he asked, rolling onto his side so he could see her.

"Your home."

"What sort of a story? An adventure? Tragedy? Romance?"

"One with everything! Adventure, tragedy, and romance! They are the best." She smiled dreamily and lay back, her arms stretched above her head.

"I will tell you one that my cousin told my sister and I when we were younger." He lay back, remembering the reason Théodred had told them the story. Their mother had just died, and he wished to comfort them.

* * *

_Once upon a time _(he began, as all good storytellers do)_, a warrior prince by the name of Tristan was born._

_Tristan's father was a great knight, but Tristan never knew him. He died in a fight before Tristan was born. His mother died in childbirth, so Tristan was taken to live with relatives in another land. He demonstrated an exceptional skill as a hunter at a very early age, but otherwise lived unremarkably until pirates kidnapped him at the age of 10. He managed to escape, but was swept away by the sea and washed up on the shore of a strange land. He made his way to a forest, where he survived by his incredible skill as a hunter. _

_Soon, rumors of a wild boy living in the woods began to spread. Tristan was captured and brought to the court of King Marden. A year later, a distant relative of King Marden's came to visit in search of the boy he had raised since birth. Shortly, Tristan was reunited with his guardian, but he decided to stay at the court of his uncle, King Marden, in hopes of becoming a knight._

_Seven years later - having proved himself as the worthiest of the knights of King Marden - Tristan would face his greatest challenge. An enormous knight named Morold would be visiting soon. Every seven years, Morold would appear at the court of King Marden demanding a tribute of young men and girls. The tribute was always paid, since no champion dared to face Morold alone, and to tackle him any other way would be ignoble._

_In Tristan, King Marden had finally found a hero unafraid, even zealous, to meet Morold._

_The moment Morold felt the arm of Tristan, he knew he had met a man like no other he had known, but Morold fought on confidently. Before long, Tristan received a slight wound._

_"I expected more from you," said Morold._

_"You expect this trickling of blood to stop me," said Tristan._

_"You'll feel the pain of your wound soon enough. This sword is not what it seems. Dipped in a poison of my own making. No one can cure you but my sister, Igraine, and you'll find no comfort there. Though we are different, my sister and I are two sides of the same coin, each the other's sworn protector."_

_"Well then," said Tristan, lunging, "I am not the only one who will die today." _

_"The faster your blood races, the more the poison flows."_

_"Then I will move quicker still."_

_Tristan cracked the skull of Morold with his sword, then collapsed next to the fallen giant. Exhausted and already ill, Tristan was not yet ready to die. He knew of a Queen Igraine whose land was not far. Reasoning her to be the sister of Morold, he traveled to her castle disguised as a minstrel._

_How Tristan survived the journey is impossible to say, but his magnificent body had grown haggard and weak by the time he arrived at the castle of Queen Igraine. Still, he managed to pull himself to his feet before the Queen and beg for an opportunity to speak. In a polite manner, he explained that he had been bitten by a snake and was dying. But he had heard of the sweet healing touch of the beautiful queen. _

_The Queen and her daughter, the lovely Isolde, were impressed by Tristan's fine manners, so noble for a minstrel on the verge of death. The Princess was assigned the task of nursing the boy back to health. _

_As Tristan's vigor returned, a palpable attraction to the Princess could be observed, which was a source of some concern for the Queen. A Princess, thought the Queen, should find better ways to occupy her time than consorting with minstrels. _

_Meanwhile, Tristan decided to send word back to King Marden informing his uncle of his improving condition. The very ideal of chivalry, Tristan was an accomplished musician and poet. Inspired by the unsurpassed beauty of Isolde, he constructed tender verses in her honor. _

_Moved by the gorgeous poetry, King Marden remembered his people's need for a queen. He sent word to Queen Igraine, who was thrilled by the prospect of her daughter's marriage to a powerful King. If the girl must waste her time toying with minstrels, let her do it as a well-married queen. But the Queen decided to keep her plans a secret, to surprise her daughter with the good news when the deal was set._

_Then the body of Morold was brought back to the castle of Igraine. Upon seeing it, the Queen and the Princess vowed revenge upon "whomsoever did this heinous deed." Avenging the death of Morold was the solemn duty of his relatives, a pact made by a priest at the birth of the Queen and her brother. _

_Preparing the body for burial, Princess Isolde noticed a small chunk of metal lodged in his skull. She removed it, hoping someday to use the evidence to discover his killer._

_One afternoon, the Princess found Tristan's sword and noticed a piece of metal missing from it. Matching up the fragment taken from her uncle's skull, she realized, to her horror, that the killer was the fair minstrel she had grown so fond of - obviously no ordinary minstrel. _

_She had no choice. She must kill Tristan. But she could not bear the thought. She had grown so fond of the boy. She resolved to follow the only honorable course she could see; she would kill Tristan, then kill herself. She might be dead, but she would be well remembered. _

_She chose poisoned wine as the method. She informed only her loyal servant, Brangane, of the plot. But Brangane, whose duty would have been to commit suicide along with her mistress, considered love preferable to death and switched the poison crystals for the crystals of a love potion. _

_The Princess poured the crystal laden wine._

_"Why so melancholy, Princess?" Tristan asked, his own spirits soaring._

_"To fate," she said, lifting her cup. They drank, unleashing an unrelenting passion, a love without care of consequences, without regard for any obstacle. Surely such emotions do not belong to crystals alone, but sparked by magic or fate, a seething insatiable love began to move inexorably towards its end, sweeping Tristan and Isolde along with it. _

_As the unsuspecting Tristan sipped his wine, the messengers of King Marden were speeding towards him with news of the King's impending nuptials - and Tristan's next assignment: to escort the King's new bride to her new home._

_By elaborate scheme, Tristan and Isolde managed to avoid the wedding night horror of her in the bed of King Marden. _

_Rumors of a possible affair between the beautiful two had begun to trickle back to the ears of Marden. Suspicious, he decided to put Isolde to the test, a trial by fire. His young bride would swear her fidelity to him then place her hands on a red-hot iron. Her truthful words would protect her from the searing metal._

_Attending the ordeal, Tristan disguised himself as a tattered pilgrim. Approaching the King, Isolde stumbled into the arms of the dusty palmer. When questioned, Isolde claimed no man had lain hands on her "save this poor pilgrim here." She survived the ordeal unscathed. _

_Faithful Brangane took Isolde's place in King Marden's wedding bed. Brangane covered her face, claiming her purity and the traditions of her land required such modesty. _

_Resorting to all sorts of similar trickery, Tristan and Isolde yielded to their passions, but King Marden and his ears grew more and more alert. Once he found the two of them lying in a forest with a naked sword between them. He stabbed Tristan in the back with a knife while the boy composed a song for his fair queen. Tristan survived the wound, but Marden could stand no more of the rumors and banished him._

_Recognizing his guilt, Tristan accepted his fate and set out to accomplish many great deeds in the name of King Marden and the fair queen Isolde. The fame of Tristan spread far and wide and he joined King Cadeyrn's knights, but he could find no solace. While in service to the great king, he met a beautiful maiden whose name was Gwynhyfar. Tristan married Gwynhyfar but never consummated the marriage. Instead he set off to fight a dragon. The battle, like any mortal combat, was grim, glorious and brutal in its finality. Tristan prevailed, but was badly wounded. _

_As he lay dying in the castle he shared with Gwynhyfar, he sent word to his beloved Isolde, knowing that only she could cure him. He instructed his messenger to hoist white sails above the ship upon its return if Isolde was on board, black sails if she was not. Thus he would know if his one true love would come back to him._

_As the ship sailed in, Tristan lay too weak to raise his head. He asked Gwynhyfar if the sails were white or black. The big white sails billowed majestically against the crisp blue sky, but his jealous wife replied, "black." Tristan died of a broken heart. _

_Upon finding his body, the spirit of his beloved Isolde departed this earth._

* * *

Éomer was surprised to find tears in his eyes as he finished the tale.

"That was beautiful," Lothíriel whispered. "But the lady Gwynhyfar was terrible. Did she not love him enough to let him be saved?"

"You sound like my sister," Éomer laughed. He sat up, talking as he went. "She wondered the same thing. Théodred had to explain to her that Gwynhyfar may have loved him, but Isolde loved him more. And when Tristan was healed, he would go back with Isolde. Éowyn said that if she were telling the story, Gwynhyfar would have her head cut off and Tristan and Isolde would live together forever."

"I like your sister more and more every moment," said Lothíriel. "She sounds like a lovely person."

"Aye, she is," he said. He picked up the bottle of wine and took a long draught.

"You worry about her, don't you?" said Lothíriel, taking the bottle.

"Aye. I fear...." He trailed off. "It is not important."

"You know the best way to end your worries?" she asked. "At least temporarily?"

"What is that?"

"Drink more wine." She held up the wine bottle and grinned impishly. Éomer grinned back.

* * *

**A/N: **and who can guess what kind of trouble they'll get into now? hehe...whoo, that took a _lot_ more space than i thought it would. seven pages exactly! by the way, the story of tristan and isolde could possibly be important later on. ::hinthint:: and because this is so long, i'm not going to post replies today, except to answer a few questions.

**lady hades: **i don't know that much about weapons. the name for the glaive is from tamora pierce's books, the lady knight quartet. i made up the design and usage myself.

**dancin' over the edge:** i promise you will find out how lothiriel's been getting in and out of eomer's room via the balcony eventually. we just have to wait a little while...until the...oh wait, can't tell you yet. don't want to spoil the surprise!

**c'est magnifique:** i don't have access to tolkien's original drafts (unfortunately). a friend of mine on councilofelrond told me that in the original, aragorn and eowyn are in love, but he won't let her fight, so she disguises herself. then, when she battles the witch king, she defeats him, but dies of the injuries she receives. aragorn is distraught and wanders middle earth until he dies of sorrow. or something like that.


	13. Mighty Fine Wine

::disclaimer:: if you don't get it by now...then wait a minute. she's got a penname, she writes fanfiction...um yeah, that's my poor attempt at bringing parody into my disclaimer. it means i still don't own eomer. ::sigh::

* * *

Chapter XIII

Lothíriel convinced Éomer to tell her another story. He refused at first, but after a little more wine, he agreed. He told her one of Éowyn when they had been younger. "She wanted to ride our father's horse, and of course, he would not let her. So she came to me. She wanted me to help her saddle the giant stallion. I refused, and she proceeded to kick and bite and punch me. I ended up with more bruises from that fight than from the one I had with your brother. If ever you meet my sister, remember that. I would hate for her to scar your lovely features."

"Do not fear for me, Éomer," Lothíriel replied. "I daresay I gave my own brothers more than enough scars. If they try to claim that they were bitten by a Haradrim warrior, know that more than likely, the marks are from myself." She blushed prettily at her confession, and Éomer laughed.

"I would be honored to call out their lies."

"But tell me more of your family," she said. "I know of your sister, but what of your parents? What is your father like? He must be a great man to have married a princess."

Éomer looked down. "My father is dead."

"Oh," Lothíriel said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

He shook his head. "It's alright. My father _was_ a great man. The bravest man I ever knew. He hated orcs with a passion—it was his downfall. Fifteen years ago, I suppose it was, he heard of a party of orcs outside Aldburg—he was third Marshal at the time—and he took his éored to kill them. It was an ambush," he said haltingly. "The orcs killed all but one of the men who fought that day. He returned with the news. After that, my mother, who had always been so beautiful and happy, just wasted away. She died less than a year later, and Éowyn and I were sent to live with my uncle and our cousin in Edoras." Tears stung the man's eyes and he took another long draught of wine. "We grew up in Edoras. Théodred took us under his wing—he's a good thirteen years older than I—he taught Éowyn to use a sword and me the ways of the éored. We are not just cousins, but the closest of friends. Of course, part of that may be because he knows what it was like to lose a parent. His mother died when he was just a babe."

"I also lost my mother when I was but a babe. Elphir is the only one of the four of us who really remembers her. Adar does not talk of her very often; it pains him. They were deeply in love."

"It is the same with my uncle," Éomer said quietly.

They sat in silence for a little while. At last, Lothíriel ventured to speak. "We should not dwell on sadness," she said, changing subjects. "Come, we must be joyous. It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, and no harm can come to us." She smiled widely and leaned closer to Éomer. "Besides, we are out of the city, together, and no one can bother us." She kissed him soundly on the lips. Éomer reacted to her touch, drawing her closer and deepening the kiss. He pressed his tongue against her mouth, and she opened it, allowing him in before drawing back slightly. "Wait," she whispered. She reached behind her and began to undo her over-dress. When she had untied it, she lifted it over her shoulders, revealing a creamy under-slip, and took a deep breath, smiling. "There," she said, throwing it aside, "I feel much freer now." She leaned closer to Éomer again. "Kiss me," she whispered into his ear, and he obliged, closing his eyes, his pulse pounding in his heart.

Slowly, he realized that it was not just his pulse that he heard, but also another, more randomized pattern, like that of a horse's canter. And then, he heard a voice. "Lothíriel! Curse it, where are you?" It was a male voice, and it took Éomer a moment to realize that it was Elphir.

His eyes flew open. _Elphir!_ He looked into Lothíriel's eyes and saw the same surprise he felt in them. She moved away from him quickly, grabbing her bodice, but it was to no avail.

"Lord Éomer! Lothíriel!" Elphir had caught sight of them and rode forward, obviously angry. "What are you doing?"

"Having a picnic, what else?" said Lothíriel.

"Don't play innocent, Lothíriel," Elphir snapped. "I know what you were doing."

"Then why did you ask?" she replied.

Elphir merely scowled at her and then spoke to Éomer. "How you ever managed to seduce Lothíriel, I cannot see. She usually will have nothing to do with drunkards." He paused. "Or perhaps you did not seduce her. Perhaps you used force."

"I did not seduce Lothíriel!" Éomer snapped. "Nor did I force her into anything! Gods, what do you take me for? A lecher?"

"If the name fits," Elphir replied dismissively.

"I am no lecher!" he shouted. "And if anyone has attempted to seduce anyone else, it was your sister who tried to seduce me! Béma, she's the one that kissed me!"

"You dare insult my sister? You foul beast!" Elphir jumped down from his horse, drawing a knife as he went. Lothíriel stood by, shocked into silence.

"Elphir! What are you doing?" A deep voice came seemingly out of nowhere.

Elphir's eyes went wide. "Adar?" The two men turned to see the Prince of Dol Amroth on horseback, flanked by his two younger sons. "You are home early."

"Aye, and in the nick of time, too, it seems," said the older man. He was near in age to King Théoden, but seemed younger for his hair was still dark and his face was not so worn with care. There were obvious marks of a good life: he had a vigor about him that was not wholly due to his obvious physical strength and a glint in his eye that betrayed his inclination to laughter, though it was apparent that he was not amused at the current situation. "Is there a reason why you have a knife in your hand as if you are ready to throw it at Théoden-king's soldier?"

Elphir looked at his feet. "He has insulted Lothíriel," he said quietly. "And he lay with her. More than once." At that, Erchirion and Amrothos both moved their hands to their own knives.

Imrahil's eyes narrowed, and he turned his stern look on Éomer. "Is this true?"

Éomer also ducked his head. "Nay, milord, not precisely."

"Not precisely?" The prince raised his eyebrows. "Then what, precisely, is the truth?"

"I..."

"Yes?" he prompted.

"We fell asleep next to each other once. Twas nothing serious, I assure you, Adar." Lothíriel spoke for the first time since her family had arrived.

"Lothíriel," Imrahil said.

"Yes?"

"You and I shall have a talk later, but for now, let us all return to the city. I would enjoy a warm meal and a nice, long, rest."

"Yes, Adar." She bowed her head and mounted her horse.

Her younger brothers quickly moved to flank her sides as the group rode towards the city. The darker of the two spoke in Elvish. "Mírthmallen wine, Lothíriel? It would seem that we could not have returned at a better moment. You have been entertaining the Rohirric lord most wondrously." He smirked at his little sister, who scowled and replied heatedly.

"Erchirion, I have not been 'entertaining' Éomer. We have just become friends over the past few days."

"Indeed." He raised his eyebrows at Amrothos. "Hear that, Amrothos?" he said in Common. "They're just good friends." Éomer and Lothíriel blushed simultaneously.

"Oh, aye," answered Amrothos, clearly enjoying his sister's discomfort, "just as good of friends as you and Aranel." Now it was Erchirion's turn to blush.

"Aranel and I are not 'good friends'," he protested.

Lothíriel laughed at her older brother. "Erchirion, you are a most terrible liar. We all know that you've been secretly courting her. Why do you not ask for her hand?"

"It's more complicated than that," he muttered and moved to ride with Elphir and Imrahil.

Éomer moved up next to Lothíriel. He had been riding behind the rest, both out of respect to Prince Imrahil and to stay as far away from Elphir as possible. Lothíriel turned to him, her eyes dancing and her worries forgotten. "Oh! I forgot to introduce you! Amrothos," she said, turning to her brother, "I'd like for you to meet Éomer, the Third Marshal of the Mark and the emissary sent from Rohan. Éomer, this is Amrothos, my youngest brother and by far the most troublesome."

Amrothos nodded at Éomer. "Faeg govannen, rochir." He laughed, clear and light. "You really should be more subtle if you plan to woo Lothíriel. Elphir has never liked it when the suitors come to call. Of course, I do not see why—I would be more than happy to send the minx off to Rohan. I'd never have to see her again."

She gave her brother a good-natured shove. "I'd be glad in the leaving," Lothíriel said, "for then I'd never have to see you again!"

"I don't plan to woo your sister," Éomer said.

"What's that?" Amrothos leaned forward. "Oh. Well then, I suggest that you no longer take her on picnics, especially if you are taking Mírthmallen with you."

"What or who is 'Mírthmallen'?" Éomer asked, obviously confused.

"Lothíriel!" Amrothos turned to his sister. "Don't tell me you didn't warn him about the wine!"

"Alright, I won't," she said, grinning.

Amrothos ran a hand through his brown hair. "Éomer, Mírthmallen, or 'wine of gold', is the strongest wine our people know how to make. Lothíriel—" he glared at his sister "—has attempted to drug you with it. It is used for special occasions, especially weddings. They say it has properties that augment certain...senses."

"Oh," Éomer said quietly, thinking back on the kiss he had shared with Lothíriel earlier.

"'Oh' indeed," replied Amrothos. "Lothíriel, I'm afraid I may have to report your behaviour to Adar."

"Whatever for, Amrothos? You drink Mírthmallen all the time."

* * *

**A/N:** sorry this one's a little late...i've been pretty busy this past week...watching baseball (go red sox!). btw, "faeg" (as in "faeg govannen") is "bad" in sindarin. i know it's incorrect grammar (bad met...heh), but i couldn't find the word for "badly." next up, _the talk_ (dunh dunh dunnnh!!!).

**Replies:**

**lotr-nutcase:** it's the story of tristan and isolde...and it is an arthurian legend. i just changed some of the names and the places so they would fit in middle-earth.

**blue eyes at night:** thank you! i'm glad you liked the incorporation!

**dancin' over the edge:** it wasn't actually my version...i got it from the kay diamond jewelers website. and yes, eomer is innocent compared to lothiriel, but i like it that way. it changes things up.

**hotdogfish:** thank you!

**lariren-shadow:** i hope i answered most of your questions with this chapter (as far as lothiriel lacing the wine with love potion and imrahil coming home are concerned). and i agree, tristan and isolde should live happily ever after as king and queen of wherever they lived.

::sigh:: i'm losing reviewers...


	14. Talking

::disclaimer:: if i owned this, i'd be on my way to boston to celebrate in the streets. HOORAY FOR THE RED SOX!!! ahem...on to the story?

* * *

Chapter XIV

As it turned out, Imrahil decided to wait until the next day to speak with Lothíriel. She went to his study after the noon meal. Knocking quietly, she entered the room. It was filled with shelves of books and scrolls. Maps of Gondor and the surrounding lands were everywhere, some rolled out on the great desk, others tacked on the walls. It smelled musty, like a library of oft-read books, and in some respects, it was that. Lothíriel had always loved her father's study for that reason; she loved books and often spent hours searching through both the library and her father's collections for tales she had not heard.

"Lothíriel, you no doubt know why I have called you in here," said Imrahil, shaking his daughter from her musings.

"To discuss Lord Éomer, yes?" she returned, seating herself.

"To an extent," Imrahil allowed, coming around the table. "Lothíriel, I have spoken with your brother, and I must admit I am quite astounded by your behavior over the past week. I did tell you to befriend the emissary from Rohan, or at least make him comfortable while he waited for my return, but I did not want you to flirt shamelessly with him. You have compromised yourself, and possibly the alliance by doing so. Now, you know the Ethuil Mereth begins tomorrow night. Elphir suggested that I ban you from it entirely—"

"You surely wouldn't do that, would you?"

"—but I have decided that you may go, as long as you have a trusted chaperone with you at all times. You are not to go anywhere near Lord Éomer unless he comes to you first, and even then, you may only dance with him. I will make certain that proper seating arrangements are made so that you are not together." She tried to protest the restrictions, but Imrahil stopped her. "No, Lothíriel, you may object all you want, but that is my final word. All three of your brothers, as well as myself, will be watching to make sure you behave as a proper princess should."

"You do this only because he is not a noble of Gondor," she said, suddenly haughty. "If it had been Lord Aermaethor that was with me out on the plateau, you would not have said anything."

"That is not true, Lothíriel. You should not be on the plateau with any man un-chaperoned. It is dangerous. Now," he said, changing subjects, "I want you to go to your room. You are to stay there and think upon your actions until the evening meal."

"Why not lock me in a tower, then?" she cried. "That way, you would never have to worry that I might kiss a man!" She stood and spun around, stomping out the door.

* * *

"Lothíriel!" Amrothos caught up to her as she stormed through the private halls.

"Have you come to escort me to my prison?" she asked sullenly.

"Adar did ask me to follow you," he admitted. "But I wanted to tell you—Ethuil Mereth begins tomorrow night. You will need an escort for it."

"And?" She did not bother to say that she already knew all of this.

"Would you like me to take you?"

"No, but I'd rather you than Erchirion or Elphir—or worse, Adar."

"I'll fetch you an hour before sundown then?"

"Very well." She kept walking.

"Valar, Lothíriel, you make it sound as if you are consigning yourself to a horrible suitor or something! I'm trying to keep Elphir out of your hair!" He leaned closer to her, whispering urgently. "If I am your escort, Elphir will see no reason to follow you around all night. I can buy you some time with Éomer."

She looked at him. "You would do that for me?"

"So long as you promise not to compromise either yourself or him."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said. "Thank you, Amrothos, you are wonderful!" She kissed his cheek and hurried off to her rooms, the wheels in her head already turning.

* * *

Meanwhile, Éomer was walking into Imrahil's study. "Ah, Lord Éomer," said the prince mildly, "please, sit down."

Éomer sat and immediately began to apologize. "Milord, I am terribly sorry for all the ruckus I caused yesterday. I had too much to drink and did not act responsibly. It will never happen again."

Imrahil waved his apology away. "I have no doubt of that, lad. I have already told Lothíriel that she is not to come near you. But that is not why I called you in here."

"It's not?"

"No. I know that you are the emissary for Rohan and that you were expecting our negotiations to take a week or so at most. But you have already been here nearly a week, and nothing has taken place, and for that I apologize. I was not expecting bandits. And I must apologize in advance for something else: tomorrow signifies the beginning of Ethuil Mereth, the spring festival. It is a week-long festival that our city celebrates every year, and it requires the constant presence of the city's rulers. That said, I apologize profusely for the second delay, but I must attend the festivities. I would, however, like to invite you to join us in them. They are an excellent distraction and a wonderful chance to show your prowess at several events, with everything from races to mock-fights to choosing the best wine from the many wineries."

"If it is not too much of an inconvenience," Éomer said, "I believe I should like to stay here in Dol Amroth until the end of the festivities, and then we can begin the negotiations."

Imrahil smiled, and Éomer recognized Lothíriel's broad grin. "I thought that would be your answer." He changed subjects. "However, I must ask you to stay away from Lothíriel. She is my only daughter, and I do not want her heart broken by a soldier that she will never see again."

"I understand, sir. And you do not have to worry. I will stay as far away from her as I possibly can." Éomer stood, feeling somewhat resigned, and exited the study. Not sure of what to do for the rest of the afternoon, he decided to explore the city. Lothíriel had only taken him to Saberman's, and he wanted to see the rest of the taverns before he left. Lost in his thoughts, he began walking toward the nearest gate into the city.

* * *

It was not long before Éomer was quite lost. He had been wandering through the winding streets of Dol Amroth for at least an hour and had absolutely no idea where he was. The layout of the city was entirely foreign: instead of the half-structured checkerboard of houses and stables he was used to, the streets seemed to branch out from the palace like a spiraling path up a mountain. Every now and then, Éomer would come to a temple or a market square that had even more streets branching out from it. Eventually, he found a fish market. It was filled with people trying to get the latest catch. Éomer was jostled as he tried to get through the throng, and people glared at the young man who got in their way. He searched for a landmark of some sort, anything to help him find his way back to the palace.

"Master Éomer!" a voice called out amid the hubbub of the crowd. Éomer turned, looking for the man who had called his name. "Master Éomer, where is the beautiful Lothíriel? Last time I saw you, the two of you were inseparable. Or did she leave you to fend for yourself?" Erulehton materialized out of the crowd, carrying a basket loaded with fish.

"I came into the city on my own and got lost," Éomer admitted sheepishly.

"Ah, well, you'll just have to come back to the pub with me." Erulehton smiled. "Follow me." The younger man quickly led him through the swarm and into the maze of streets. They seemed to back-track, but Erulehton insisted that they weren't. "This is the quickest way to the pub. The streets start at various points in the city. For example, the four main avenues all spread out from the palace. They in turn go to other landmarks, such as the temple to Ulmo, and more streets spread out from them. If you could see the city from the sky, it would look like several spider webs all meshed together. It's easy to see why someone who is unfamiliar with the city would get lost." By this time, they had reached the pub. "Come on in, drinks are on the house." They walked inside.

"I thought you'd never get back," said Aela as Erulehton walked in with the fish. "I see you brought a friend." She smiled at Éomer. "Suílad!"

"Suílad," he returned, unsure of what he was saying.

"I found him hanging around the fish market," Erulehton explained. "Thought I better bring him here, so he doesn't get into trouble."

"And where was Lothíriel?" Aela asked.

Erulehton shrugged. "He was alone."

"Lothíriel and I...are not allowed to be alone," Éomer said. He saw no reason to hold the information from these people; after all, Lothíriel trusted them completely.

"Not allowed?" Erulehton repeated, an eyebrow raised.

"It's a long story."

The other man smiled. "I have plenty of time. Why don't we sit and have a drink?" He gestured to a corner table.

Éomer nodded, and they sat. Aela brought ales over and took a seat as well. "After we came here the other day, Lothíriel and I went back to the palace. Apparently, I am allergic to crab, so your wonderful food did not stay in my stomach." He grimaced at the memory. "Lothíriel attended me, and we fell asleep in my bed." He continued to recount the events of the past several days, finishing with what Imrahil had told him. It surprised him that Erulehton grew angry at the prince.

"When will that man realize that Lothíriel is not a little girl anymore?" he said.

"Erulehton, she is only seventeen yet," chided Aela as she stood to attend some customers that had just walked in.

"She will be eighteen soon enough," he muttered, gripping his mug tightly.

"I take it you have a past with Lothíriel, then," ventured Éomer.

Erulehton looked up. "Oh aye," he said. "Her mother died when she was four or five, did she tell you that?" Éomer nodded. "Lady Mídhæriel drowned in a storm. The city mourned for weeks. And on the anniversary of her death, there is always a vigil for those who have died at sea. The docks are lined with candles and lanterns, and everyone gathers to feast and mourn. Two years ago, Lothíriel was drunk. We both were, but she was moreso than I. We went back to the palace, to her rooms, and—" he took a deep breath "—made love. Later, I snuck out by way of the balcony. I think Elphir discovered us, but he never said anything to me. Afterward, Lothíriel became more guarded around me than she had been." He looked down into his mug and then looked back up. "But that was then. We've both moved on. We're still good friends of course, but things have changed a bit." He looked into Éomer's eyes. "I just hope you have better fortune than I."

* * *

**A/N: **and there you have it. the TALK, the _other_ talk, and a confession. and you guys thought i'd forgotten about my oc's down at the dockside pub. up next: lothiriel's plan, and then the festival.

**Replies:**

**lady hades: **after much thought, and a brief discussion with my inner demons, i realized you were right. the story was dragging. hope this chappie helped pick things up again.

**lotr-nutcase:** patience, preciousss...elphir will get his own in due time. it may not be what or when you expect it to be, but it will come. hope you liked the TALK.

**hotdogfish:** the whole problem is imrahil doesn't want lothiriel to go _anywhere_. stupid over-protective families.

**prettyfoot: **lol..i know the feeling. thanks for the review!

**lady anck-su-namun:** i don't know if i said this before, but i love your name. that said, i figured that if she's going to be semi-insane, she might as well start out that way. after all, she's on her homeground and has no reason to be anything but herself.

**gypsyswordgoddess: **your review had me giggling for hours. a guilty pleasure? i never thought i would become that. thanks, i think..lol.

**lariren-shadow: **johnny damon as aragorn? i don't know about that one...i was kinda thinking chewbacca..lol. and he rox my sox (hehe) off! yeah, amrothos is turning out to be the best of the brothers. elphir's a stuck-up git. i may or may not use the rain thing...at this point, it looks like i won't. and "serë mi eru" means (roughly translated from sindarin) "peace within god."

**soccer-bitch: **thanks for the review, as always!

**dancin' over the edge:** honestly, i have no idea why the website had the story. i think it was various love stories that they thought would look cool on their site (i think they had romeo & juliet, too). i don't know if eomer and theodred would have gone to dol amroth before. after all, they had to deal with orcs almost all the time. glad my story makes you feel better!

**blue eyes at night:** she didn't drug him, i promise! you'll find out more about the wine in the next chapter. thanks for the review!

**desolateaznvamp: **thankies muchly for the review!

**elegantcouture:** yes, damn elphir! but better elphir than her father, right? especially since he would have been a few minutes later....

**c'est magnifique:** glad you liked the last line...i enjoyed writing it. and please don't fail science and social studies because you're reading my stories! i'd feel awful if that happened! and yeah, tristan actually married another lady named isolde of the white hands (i changed the name to avoid confusion).


	15. Unexpected Guests

::disclaimer:: does anyone else get sick of having to write these for every chapter? why doesn't just have a blanket disclaimer for all stories posted on their site? oh well...i don't own it, so don't sue me.

* * *

Chapter XV

Éomer and Erulehton had been sitting in silence for a long while, sipping their ale when the door to the pub opened again and Elphir walked in (or so Éomer thought). He was wearing a long cloak—odd, since he had only walked from the palace. "Erulehton!" he said brightly. "I haven't seen you in ages."

Erulehton squinted and then smiled. "Faramir? What are you doing here?"

_Faramir..._thought Éomer..._That name sounds familiar._

"I thought I'd come to Ethuil Mereth. I haven't been in years." He grinned. "How is your sister?"

Aela came out of the kitchens. "I'm doing well, you rogue," she answered for him. "Where have you been? We haven't seen you since, what, last summer?"

Faramir shook his head. "Longer than that. It's been at least a year-and-a-half." He came toward Aela, picked her up, and gave her a great hug. "I've missed you all."

"Lothíriel's missed you more," said Aela, and Éomer felt a twitch of jealousy.

Faramir rolled his eyes. "My cousin always claims to miss me. Truthfully, I think she misses the gifts I bring from Minas Tirith." Éomer jolted awake. Of course! Lothíriel's cousin, Faramir, who was also allergic to crab.

"And what trinkets have you brought this time?" asked Aela, her eyes dancing.

"What makes you think that I have brought any gifts for you?"

She smiled. "You always do."

He laughed again. "You know me too well, Aela darling. I have something for you...somewhere." He set down his pack and began to rummage through it. "Ah yes! Here it is!" He drew out a chain of silver, a necklace. "The finest silver from the mines in the Ered Nimrais." He linked it around her neck. "It looks lovely on you."

She smiled. "And when am I to wear this, Faramir? It is much too fine for anything I have to wear."

"I suspect you will find somewhere to put it to use." He turned to Erulehton. "And to the brother of the object of my affections—" Aela giggled "—I bring bottles of the finest wine I could acquire outside of Dol Amroth. They are in the saddlebags of my faithful steed outside."

"Then we should go get them lest the street urchins get them," said Erulehton, laughing. "Éomer, would you care to join us?" For the first time, the newcomer saw him. Faramir twitched his eyebrows, obviously questioning the identity of the young man. "Faramir, may I introduce to you Master Éomer of Rohan, here to negotiate a trade alliance with the Prince. Éomer, this is Faramir, Lothíriel's cousin, and Aela's not-so-secret admirer."

"Mae govannen, rochir," Faramir said in the customary greeting. He smiled disarmingly.

"Mae govannen, híren," Éomer returned. "You are from Minas Tirith?" he asked, guardedly. He remembered that it was Lord Denethor who believed that Rohan had fallen under the hand of the dark lord.

"Aye," answered Faramir. "My father is the steward." He laughed slightly. "He believes your kind to be dangerous."

"If that is truth," interrupted Erulehton, "it is only because they are dangerous to our women. He has already charmed your cousin in a mere week, and I believe Aela is falling prey to him as well." He grinned. "You should have seen the women in the fish market today! I don't think Éomer realized it, but they all stood agape as he wandered, lost and abandoned."

They all looked at Éomer who blushed. "The wine?" he mumbled.

"Of course," answered Faramir. The three men went outside to where the horse stood. It was a beautiful creature, Éomer couldn't help noticing. It was a great bay stallion, at least seventeen hands high. He patted it absentmindedly. "Here they are," said Faramir. "I got the best ones I could find." He pulled a bottle out of the saddlebag and handed it to Erulehton.

"Melmësuhto?" asked Erulehton. "When you mentioned the wine, I was afraid you had brought something I would have to discreetly dump into the streets, but this, this _is_ fine wine."

"I told you the finest outside of this fair city, did I not?" asked Faramir.

"Aye, but I was not expecting the finest in the world."

"With the exception of the Elvish wines, of course," countered Faramir.

"Of course. But who are we to judge that which we shall never know?" The two men laughed at a hidden joke in their words and went back inside, leaving Éomer standing with his hand on the horse's neck.

"It has been a strange day," he said to the horse. He thought of all he had done and learned, of Lothíriel and Erulehton and the appearance of Faramir. He sighed heavily. "A strange day indeed." He turned up the road and headed back to the palace.

* * *

That night, Éomer received another balcony visit from Lothíriel. "I have wonderful news," she said, waltzing into the room, bathed in moonlight. "Faramir has come for Ethuil Mereth, and Amrothos is my escort for the first night."

"And?" Éomer asked, sitting up.

"And they are going to find a way to get us some time alone." She came toward his bed.

"Alone?"

"Aye."

"But, Lothíriel, why?"

"Because they imagine us in love!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms wide and falling onto the bed.

"I can't imagine why they would think that," he said wryly, "since we aren't."

"We aren't?" She looked up at him.

"Of course not. We hardly know each other."

She propped herself up on her elbows. "I know your father was strong and your mother beautiful. Your sister is both of these, your cousin is noble, your uncle is—or was—magnificent and you are honest and humble and brave. Your greatest fear is that you will not always be able to protect your sister, but I think she will come into her own and save herself without your help. You are loyal to your king and to your country, so much so that you are willing to abandon your post and possibly lose your high regard to try to make an alliance to protect them. You love passionately, and by that I mean both fraternally and intimately (Mírthmallen is no more an aphrodisiac than any other wine, despite Amrothos' opinion). You remind me of my cousins, especially Boromir when you laugh or become self-righteous, but also Faramir when you become suddenly innocent and pensive. You ride like the wind and are allergic to seafood. You enjoy simple food and ale." She smiled. "See? I know more about you than you thought."

"And how, pray tell, have you discovered all of this?"

"From listening to you and watching you, mostly. You are much easier to read than you realize, Éomer, which is both a blessing and a curse for you."

"How so?"

"A blessing, because it keeps you honest—trustworthy. A curse for the same reason, for you cannot tell even the simplest of lies."

"But what does all of this have anything to do with whether we are in love or not?" Éomer asked, smiling despite himself.

"When I have that part figured out, I shall tell you." She lay back again, laughing. "Until then, you will just have to trust me."

"But how do you know we are in love?"

She shrugged. "I cannot explain it."

Éomer waited for a moment and then said, "What about Erulehton? Do you love him?"

Lothíriel's breath caught. "How do you know about that?" she whispered.

"He told me today...I went into the city and ended up at Saberman's," he explained. "I told him and Aela what had happened, and he told me of you."

She looked down, and Éomer saw a trickle of silver run down her face. "That night was....That was a long time ago, did he tell you that?"

"Aye, two years."

"I would rather not talk about that, please," she said.

"Lothíriel, I did not mean—"

She waved him away. "I know." She laughed, halfheartedly this time. "I hoped I would be the one to tell you, if ever it came to that. I was hoping it never would, but now that it has, I suppose you should know. Erulehton and I never were and never will be. That night was an incident of circumstance. We both had too much to drink, I was too emotional, and neither of us were thinking things through."

"Lothíriel, you sound as if you are apologizing," Éomer said quietly. "Don't apologize to me. I do not care, and I had nothing to do with it. We are not in love, it does not matter."

"Are we not?" she asked.

"No."

"I love you, Éomer. I cannot explain it, I know we only met, but I feel like I have known you for eternity." Éomer said nothing, unable to admit he felt the same way. She laughed again, ruefully.

"What?"

She shook her head. "We are like that faery-tale you told me, star-crossed and doomed, only our end is not so clear. I am drawn to you, yet my brother would kill you if he could. You do not know your fate, but I think I can see it. You will be great among your people, though how you accomplish your greatness is unclear. And will you remember me when you become great? I hope so, but I will not trust to that hope."

"I will never forget you," he promised.

"Will you not?" she asked. He turned to promise it again, but she was gone, over the balcony's edge again, silent as the glittering moon in the sky.

* * *

**A/N:** whoa, that was deep. i was most definitely not expecting all of _that_. ::points to lothiriel's speeches:: ah well, as i said to my friend andvagorwen earlier today, i do not control the characters, i just write down what they say and do. and now you know the truth of mirthmallen...it is nothing more than a very good wine. speaking of which, i thought i'd mention that "melmesuhto" means "love-draught" in quenyan. just a bit of humor there (i love naming the wines) (no, it has nothing whatsoever to do with tristan and isolde and lothiriel will not try to get eomer to drink...at least, i don't think so).

**Replies: **(not so many this time because i updated quickly)

**lady anck-su-namun: **this quick enough for you? and eomer didn't get too weird on erulehton, or at least i don't think so. what do you think?

**lotr-nutcase:** drunken compromising situations are my specialty. just wait until the next chapter. hehe...::insert evil laugh here:: did you like how i handled lothiriel's "indiscretion"? and yes, it will be interesting to see how she and eomer fare at the festival.....

**prettyfoot:** i think faramir's part may become a bit more than a cameo. hope you liked it!

**hotdogfish: **ah, but lothiriel realizes it would be pointless to argue with her father. it's much easier to go behind his back and meet with eomer anyways.

as always, feedback is most welcome!


	16. Festivities

::disclaimer:: insert standard disclaimer here (i can't think of anything else right now).

* * *

Chapter XVI

Éomer did not see Lothíriel again until the next evening at the beginning of the festival. She was indeed escorted by Amrothos, who led his sister as she daintily walked among the crowd of people. She wore a dark red dress with a golden underdress and a green shawl and gold jewelry to accent it (_the colors of Rohan_, Éomer thought). She was absolutely resplendent as they made their way slowly down the aisle, nodding to the people and greeting those they knew by name. When they arrived at Éomer, he nodded gravely to Amrothos (who wore a cloak and tunic similar to Lothíriel's dress) and took Lothíriel's free hand, kissing it gently. "You look beautiful, my lady," he murmured.

She smiled. "You look beautiful, too." Éomer ducked his head, and she laughed lightly as they continued on their way behind their older siblings and father.

Faramir came behind them. "Master Éomer," he said, nodding, "I hope you will send a few of your fine horses to my own city; I am always in the market for a good war stallion."

Éomer smiled. "But the geldings make better war-horses, milord."

"They do?" Faramir asked, drawing Éomer out of the crowd so they could talk as they walked along.

"Aye," replied Éomer. "At least when we fight the Dunlendings, they are. You see, the Dunlendings ride mares that they steal from our herds and use them to distract the stallions. The soldiers in my éored each have two horses: one a gelding and the other a stallion. It also comes in handy when we are on the move; one horse for riding and the other for carrying our packs."

Faramir nodded and then whispered hurriedly, "The fountain garden after the fourth dance." Éomer gave a slight nod as Faramir spoke loudly again, "Well then, you shall just have to sell me a gelding." They chatted idly as they continued down the aisle until at last they reached the garden set aside for the night's feasting.

And what a sight it was! Tables along the edges of the great space were laden with food and drinks, and blankets and pillows were laid out on the ground for seating. "The blankets are much easier to clear away for the dancing," explained Faramir as they sat.

The last of the royal train entered and seated themselves near the nobility, and then the rest of the crowd came pouring into the expanse. It seemed that nearly everyone from the city had come to the night of feasting, though Amrothos, who sat on the opposite side of Éomer, told him it was not so. "This is only a fraction of the people celebrating," he said. "The others are down in the city, at the docks especially. Because there are so many people that come for the festival, Adar has developed a way to divide the sections of the city so that one portion comes for each banquet during the festival. These are all the people from the northern district, mostly the wine-makers. And what wonderful wines they do make!" He held up his goblet in a toast to all around him.

The meal went by slowly, until everyone had eaten their fill. At last, they all stood, and servants began to clear away the dishes and blankets, though they left the goblets and moved all the pillows to the outskirts of the garden. Musicians around the circle brought out their instruments and began to play a slow tune to open the dancing. "_Wintersong_," whispered Lothíriel from behind Éomer. "It is about the ending of winter and the beginning of Ethuil, spring, new life," she said as she was led toward the dancefloor by Amrothos. It was a haunting song, obviously sung in Elvish, and it brought chills to Éomer. Had he not known better, he would have sworn that just the singing could bring winter's cold.

As the harpist drew the song to a close, another musician, with a fiddle, began a lively tune. Soon, everyone was on the dancefloor, each doing their own sort of dance. Lothíriel and Amrothos drew Éomer into their circle along with Faramir and two girls from the city, both of which displayed obvious interest in the young prince of Dol Amroth. "This one is simple," said Lothíriel, who was breathless with excitement. "Just follow my lead." She moved into the center of the circle, which quickly grew to include (surprise surprise) more of the village girls as well as Erchirion and Elphir. Lothíriel spun in one direction and the rest followed. Grinning, she changed direction quickly. Then she did a complex motion with her feet that everyone else failed to mimic correctly. This resulted in several people tripping (one of the girls conviently fell upon Amrothos), Éomer included. Lothíriel laughed and quickly moved out of the center of the circle saying, "It's someone else's turn. I need a drink." Her eyes lingered on Éomer as she spoke.

The village girl that had fallen on Amrothos took her place, spinning the group in a wild circle of intricate steps and motions. Several people fell out, and at last Éomer felt it had been long enough that Elphir would not notice if he snuck off to speak to Lothíriel for a moment.

"I was wondering if you'd noticed my request," Lothíriel commented as Éomer poured himself a drink.

"I had to wait for an opportunity to escape without your brothers realizing what I was doing."

"Are you that frightened of them?" Éomer looked up to see humor in her eyes.

"Of them? No. Of what they could do to me? Undoubtedly."

Lothíriel laughed. "They would not kill you. Adar would not let them. You are, after all, an emissary from Rohan."

"I do not fear death at their hands, my lady." Lothíriel looked at him for a moment, as if trying to read the true meaning behind his words, and burst into fresh peals of laughter.

"I must admit," she said, "I would probably worry about that as well if I were in your place."

"There, you see? It is not an **inane** fear of your brothers that keeps me from...." He trailed off.

"From what?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied, reddening slightly.

"From what?" she repeated.

"Nothing at all."

"Come now, you must tell us, Éomer." Amrothos clapped a hand on his shoulder. "If it was really nothing, you wouldn't make such a fuss."

"Lady Lothíriel," Éomer spoke across Amrothos, "would you care to dance?"

"I would love to, Marshal Éomer," she answered, taking his hand and allowing him to draw her onto the dancefloor. As they joined the throng of couples for the third dance of the evening, Lothíriel said, "Now what is it that my brothers keep you from? I will not let you leave this evening without telling me."

"Very well, then. They keep me from admitting that you are a most flirtatious young woman who has done nothing but cause me trouble since the day I met her."

"So you do love me!" she exclaimed.

"I never said that."

"Yes you did. You just admitted it. You love me, Éomer darling, and you can't take your hands off me. But you will have to wait for another two songs at least. That is when we agreed to meet, is it not?" Her eyes danced with delight.

"That is when you decided we would meet," corrected Éomer.

"Well, I know that you wanted to meet earlier, but it just wasn't possible. Elphir would have guessed what we were up to. So I will retire after the fifth song, and Amrothos and Faramir are going to take you into the city to Dockside." She smiled up at him. "We have it all worked out. Saeriel is even going to keep Elphir busy, so we only have to worry about Erchirion. And he will probably dance all night with Aranel, so that won't be too much of a problem."

"What about your father?" Despite his resignations, Éomer was being drawn into Lothíriel's extravagant plans as well.

"Adar always leaves after the third or fourth song. He says he's getting too old to stay up all night." She grinned. "You won't have to worry about a thing."

* * *

As Lothíriel promised, Imrahil left the evening's festivities after the next song. She left soon after, claiming that she was tired from the dancing. Amrothos and Faramir came over to where Éomer sat near Elphir and Saeriel, saying that he must join them for the Dockside parties. Elphir was invited as well, but Saeriel told him he was not allowed; Alphros was getting cranky, and she wanted to get some sleep. He started to protest that Alphros hadn't made a noise all night, but he suddenly stopped speaking and decided to stay to help with the baby. Éomer reluctantly stood and was quickly ushered away by Faramir and Amrothos.

They led him out of the gardens toward the north gate. Once they were out of sight of the festivities, Amrothos cut across several courtyards until they reached the fountain garden. He glanced around and waved for them to come in. "Lothíriel should be here in a few minutes. Mind that you don't spend too long together; we don't want Erchirion slipping away to check on Lothíriel and discover she is not in her room. We're going to Dockside. We'll be back before sundown to make sure Lothíriel has returned to her room, so if that's where you're going, be out by morning." He grinned. "I'd hate to have to be the one to sound the alarm."

"You don't have to worry about anything like that," Éomer protested.

Faramir raised his eyebrows. "Really? Because Lothíriel looks like she would be willing to do anything." He nodded toward his cousin, who had just wandered into the garden. She had removed her overdress and only wore the gold underdress and green shawl. The dress clung to her every curve, sending a thrill through Éomer.

Amrothos put a hand on Éomer's shoulder. "You behave yourselves, now," he laughed, and the prince and his cousin disappeared into the night.

Éomer watched them and then turned to Lothíriel. She smiled as his gaze landed on her. "You see?" she said, "I told you they would take care of it." She came toward him and wrapped her arms around him. "Kiss me," she whispered.

Éomer was more than happy to comply. He took her head in his hands and slanted it upward, tilting his own down to meet her lips. "You are beautiful," he said.

"You told me that once already," she said, pulling away. Éomer tried to close the space between them, but she resisted, shaking her head. "Not tonight."

"Then why did you ask me here?" he asked huskily.

"To tell you my plans for the rest of the week," she explained. "We can meet here every night if you want, but if we pull the same trick, Elphir will get suspicious. Tomorrow night, everyone in the Quarter, the artisans and musicians, is invited. It is the only night that Adar stays for the entire feast because many of the artisans bring gifts and it takes a long while for them to be presented. He requires that all four of his children attend the entire evening as well, so we will not be able to meet for very long if at all. The night after that is Dockside's turn at the palace. It is the most fun. Adar always retires early; he complains of the noise, though I don't see how his rooms are any quieter. That is the only night that Elphir will not care what you and I do; he will be too preoccuppied with the festivities. The rest of the week, I will be free to go anywhere—those are the nights I usually spend in Dockside or at Saberman's. We can meet here or at Saberman's. I'm sure Aela and Erulehton won't mind." She grinned. "What do you say to that?"

"It sounds like a plan," he answered.

"Good." She looked at the moon, which was beginning to set. "It's getting late, I should really leave." She turned to go, but Éomer grabbed her arm.

"Not without a good-night kiss," he whispered.

Her smile widened. "I could not refuse that request." She leaned forward, planting her lips firmly on Éomer's. He deepened the kiss, and she melted against him, pressing her body against him. His breath caught, but she pulled away. "I must go," she said, and she was gone, leaving Éomer standing alone in the garden.

* * *

**A/N:** well, i'm not going to tell you what's coming up, because lothiriel summarized it best. what i will tell you is that eomer is starting to lose his innocence. and i'm enjoying every minute of it (i hope you all are, too). and, since i got several reviews for chapter 14 after i posted 15, i'm going to put replies for both up.

**Replies:**

**blue eyes at night: **somehow, i skipped over you when i was writing my replies last chapter. sorry...but yeah, lothiriel's far from innocent. and never fear, a nice, lemony speech will come eventually.

**lometari: **thankies for the review! i'm glad you're liking it!

**lirima tindomiel: **glad you liked the confession! thanks for the review!

**lady hades: **i threw it a hundred miles? all right! i didn't know i was that good. yeah, erulehton adds to the over-protectiveness, but they'd be over-protective anyways (except amrothos—he likes erulehton as well as eomer). hope you like these chappies as much as chapter 14!

**lady anck-su-namun:** the only reason these chapters have been so quick is because of an extended weekend. we had thursday and friday off and get tomorrow (tuesday) off as well. erulehton and eomer could probably start up lovers of lothiriel anonymous (lla) as a support group for men who have loved/been loved by lothiriel (and beaten up by her brothers). and foreshadowing? ::looks innocent:: whatever gave you that idea?

**soccer-bitch: **thankies, as always!

**pretty-foot: **i'm glad you appreciated faramir's inclusion. lothiriel is strong, how could she not be? after all, she survived the war without knowing what would happen to eomer.

**eokat:** thankies muchly!

**hotdogfish: **yes, it is important not to get caught (hinthint).

**c'est magnifique:** lol..hope you get to review this one. thanks for the review!

**everyone who reads but doesn't review: **thanks for reading, even if you don't get a chance to review!


	17. Friends

::disclaimer:: i can't come up with a good disclaimer, so sue me (or rather, don't)!

* * *

Chapter XVII 

Éomer didn't see Lothíriel very much the second night of the festivities: Elphir had managed to separate them more than he had the first night. Lothíriel sat between him and their father, Éomer was at the end of the table, next to Amrothos. Tonight, they had tables for the guests instead of the blankets and pillows; Amrothos explained that few of the artisans of the Quarter danced in public. "They have their own ways," he said, "and Adar respects them. They'll be dancing among the hills tomorrow night." The guests were all very mystifying, each in their own way. The night had a very dream-like quality; it was foggy, almost as if someone had planned it to add to the detached aura of the festival.

Each of the guests had brought a gift for Prince Imrahil's family. There were fine woven tapestries, statues, woodcarvings. A few of the artisans wore flamboyant costumes and performed miniature plays throughout the evening. At last the festivities began to wind down, and Amrothos leaned over to speak with Éomer again. "Saberman's, at three," he whispered. Éomer nodded and excused himself.

"Master Éomer." Imrahil beckoned him over.

"Yes, milord?"

"I was wondering if you would take Mistress Caladiel back to her home in the Quarter? She said she did not want to go alone and could not find anyone who is headed back her way."

Éomer inclined his head. "It would be my honor, milord." He spoke to Imrahil, but his eyes found Lothíriel's, who quickly looked away. "Where is the lovely lady?"

"She is right here." Imrahil indicated a girl with blonde hair who stood behind him.

She wore a flowing midnight blue dress that accented her pale face and blue eyes. She smiled in what was supposed to be a warm smile, but to Éomer it looked cold and false. "I thank you, milord, for going out of your way to keep me safe."

"It is nothing, milady."

She giggled. "Please, call me Caladiel. I hate formalities."

"Shall we go, then, Caladiel?" Éomer extended his arm to her and she took it.

As they walked past, Amrothos stood. "Éomer," he said, "might I come with you? I was wanting to go into the city tonight anyway."

"Certainly, Amrothos," he replied, relieved that he would not have to go into the Quarter with the maid alone. Something in her manner bothered Éomer. Besides, he'd never been to the Quarter, and even though he knew how to get around the city, he did not want to try to make his way back to the palace alone.

Caladiel, however, stiffened slightly and then smiled sweetly. "It would be an honor for you to join us, your highness." Amrothos nodded and took her other arm.

* * *

Despite Éomer's trepidation, the journey into the Quarter was uneventful. Caladiel had made small talk as the three walked through the ill-lit streets. Éomer decided that he would have to make a foray into the Quarter during the day sometime: the few lamps that lined the roads revealed magnificent architecture as well as a few curious shops. They finally arrived at Caladiel's residence; she invited them in for a drink, but Amrothos declined for both of them, saying that they would venture into Dockside to meet some friends. Caladiel seemed slightly put out but nodded and went inside. 

"I hoped Adar wouldn't resort to it, but I'm glad that was dealt with," stated Amrothos as they headed toward Dockside.

"What is that?" asked Éomer turning to look at him.

"The only reason Adar asked you to escort Caladiel home was to distract you from Lothíriel. Caladiel's a pretty lass, but she's shallower than a tidal pool."

"Oh," Éomer said, nodding, though he didn't quite understand what a "tidal pool" was supposed to be. "Well, thank you for rescuing me."

Amrothos laughed. "My pleasure. Let's go to Saberman's, shall we?"

After walking in silence for a while, Éomer spoke again. "Why are you helping Lothíriel?" he asked. "I mean, your brothers and father are all trying to keep us apart, but you and Faramir are doing all that you can to bring us together."

Amrothos sighed. "Let's get some ale first, alright?" He pushed open the door to Saberman's and allowed Éomer in. They were greeted by a raucous "hallo" from everyone inside.

Aela came up to them, all smiles. "Good evening, gents, can I interest you in some fine dining?"

"Just ale, please," answered Amrothos.

"Two 'just ales' coming right up," she laughed.

Amrothos and Éomer found themselves a corner table. Aela brought their drinks and wandered back into the crowd. "Now, why I'm helping Lothíriel." He took a long draught. "It's really quite simple: Lothíriel told you about me wanting to join the navy?"

Éomer nodded his assent. "She said your father has you in the cavalry for a year; said you don't like horses, though I don't understand why—everyone likes horses."

"Oh aye," he laughed, "if they're from Rohan."

"Your sister likes horses; she's one of the best riders I've seen outside of my own people."

"My sister is an entity unto herself."

Éomer had to laugh. "That's true. But she's not the only rider in Dol Amroth."

"Well then, let's just say I had a bad experience with horses once."

Éomer raised an eyebrow. "What sort of a bad experience?"

Amrothos laughed. "A bad experience. We'll leave it at that."

"No, no, you have to tell me now."

"No, no, I don't." Amrothos shook his head. "I knew I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Oh fine, then, but you have to finish your story."

"Yes, of course, well, you no doubt know the conditions under which I am in the cavalry." Éomer nodded. "Lothíriel was the one who negotiated those terms with Adar. If it were not for my sister's diplomacy, I would be in the cavalry for most of the rest of my life."

"There are worse fates."

Amrothos let out a barking laugh. "Maybe for a Rohirrim. In any case, I was indebted to my sister. She does not know it—and you are not to tell her—but it is because of me that her punishment is so light. Adar wasn't going to allow her to attend the festival, but I convinced him otherwise."

"But that doesn't fully explain—"

"Surely you know my sister well enough by now to know that she is hard to refuse."

Éomer blushed into his mug. "Aye, that she is."

"She went to Faramir first," he continued, "and begged him to help her. He refused at first, but folded before too long. They came at me together." He snorted. "It is harder to escape two earnest campaigners than it is one. I agreed; after all, she would have escaped me sooner or later and run off with you. And now you know why I aid my sister in her self-matchmaking." He grinned up at Éomer. "Besides, I like you. You're far better than Lord Aermaethor."

"Who?"

"Lord Aermaethor. He's Elphir's age and has had his eye on Lothíriel since she was old enough to be courted. She's flirted with him, but she does that with nearly every man she meets. He means nothing to her, but he has become convinced that she is in love with him." He let out a deep sigh. "Elphir encourages him, but Erchirion and I have both tried to dissuade him. Lothíriel deserves better. No woman deserves someone like Aermaethor."

"What do you mean by that?"

Amrothos looked at him evenly. "He hunts the streets of Dockside for libertines."

"Oh." They sat for a while, listening to the music and celebrations from both the pub's other patrons and the people in the streets outside. The same musicians who had been in the pub the first time Éomer had been there were playing their song about the maiden who loved a sailor again. He sighed and took a draught of his ale, draining his mug.

He was halfway through with swallowing it, when the door burst open and Lothíriel twirled in in a flurry of skirts and laughter with Faramir not far behind. Éomer choked on his ale as she plopped down in the seat next to him. "I see you survived Mistress Caladiel," she said, grinning.

Éomer coughed. "Aye, but I could not have done it without the help of your marvelous brother. He saved me from her passions, I do believe."

"Yes, but not before she pinched me," Amrothos laughed as he made room for Faramir on his side of the booth.

All three of his companions raised their eyebrows at him. "Pinched you?" Lothíriel exclaimed. "Well then, we shall have to have Adar banish her to...." She trailed off as she thought of an appropriate punishment. She put a finger to her mouth, as if considering, and then brightened. "I know! We'll send her to Harad, where the sun always shines and gives one a most awful tan!" She grinned wickedly, satisfied with her ingenuity.

"And you know how terrible tans are," said a voice from behind them. They turned to see Erulehton leaning against the booth. He cracked a grin. "Good morning, my friends. I am sorry I could not join you sooner," he said, sliding in next to Faramir. "How do the celebrations go?"

"Wonderfully!" exclaimed Amrothos, holding his tankard up. "And I must say, Erulehton, this is some of the finest ale you've had in a good while."

"Only the best for Ethuil Meren." It was Aela who spoke this time, bringing a chair for herself. "I am sorry I could not join you as well. The guests have finally quieted enough to give me a moment's peace." She guestured behind her where many of the patrons of the pub were slumped in their chairs, sleeping off the effects of the ale.

"Here, Aela," Erulehton said, standing up, "you take the booth seat. You're smaller than I am and you need more rest. You've been working all week." They exchanged seats, and Éomer couldn't help but notice that Aela quickly settled into Faramir's arms.

Lothíriel did likewise, obviously not caring that she was in the presence of both relatives and a former lover. "Erulehton, before you get comfortable, I believe Faramir said he brought you some wine for the celebrations, but it appears you have not offered it to your guests yet."

"Ah, give me but a moment." He stood and went into the kitchens. "I was saving it for a special occasion," he said as he returned, "but this is as fine a time as any. For what is more special than a drink with good company? Here you are, milady." He presented the wine to Lothíriel, who took it and inspected it.

"Melmësuhto?" she gasped. "Faramir, you did not tell me it was this!"

Faramir grinned and shrugged. "I wanted to surprise you."

"You surprised everyone, my friend," answered Erulehton for her. "I certainly did not expect it."

"Well," Lothíriel said, "we'll just have to make sure that this is as good as they say it is. Goblets, everyone?" She unwrapped the cork and handed the bottle to Amrothos. "You open it; I might drop it."

"Buion na ell!" Amrothos plied it open and poured everyone a glass. "Ma merilyë yulma míruvórë?."

"Á quanta yulmanya!" the other Amrothians exclaimed.

"What did you just say?" Éomer asked.

"Amrothos said, 'Do you want a cup of wine?'" Lothíriel informed him, "and we replied, 'Fill my cup!' It is a common exchange when sharing good wine."

"Well then, Á quanta yulmanya!" said Éomer.

The rest of the night passed quickly, the six friends enjoying good wine and good conversation. At last, they decided it was time to retire, for several of them had to be up early. Lothíriel and Éomer were the last to go. Erulehton and Aela were sending the less-inebriated patrons home and taking the rest upstairs.

"I mean to tell you—I am sorry that you had to put up with Mistress Caladiel," Lothíriel told Éomer dreamily. "I fear Adar wanted you to be distracted."

Éomer patted her head absent-mindedly. "Mistress Caladiel is a twit," he answered.

"Aye, that she is," she whispered, and soon she had drifted off to sleep.

Éomer sighed heavily. _What do I do with her now?_ he thought. Luckily, Aela came down the steps and saw what had happened.

"Take her upstairs," she whispered, "there's an empty room on the left at the top of the stairs. She'll be fine in there." Éomer nodded and lifted the sleeping princess into his arms.

He entered the small bedroom and lay her on the bed. She looked angelic and peaceful, lying there asleep. A lock of hair had fallen over her face, and he brushed it away. She shifted slightly, rubbing her head against Éomer's hand. She murmured something and rolled over. Éomer sighed and walked out the door.

* * *

**A/N:** ack. i got sappy there at the end. hope you guys liked it, though. sorry this took so long. i hit a block on exactly what to do between the last chapter and lothiriel's top secret plan. plus, last week was very busy and a bit depressing (two words: election day). oh well, i'm sort of over it now. 

**Replies:**

**hotdogfish: **lol..me too.

**lady hades: **i cannot tell you how much of my plans you guessed, but you have caused me to reconsider part of them. and yes, always be afraid of those three older brothers...never know how many are watching you.

**dancin' over the edge: **which part made you think of protector of the small? it's been a while since i read those, so i hope i didn't accidentally plagiarise or something....

**gypsyswordgoddess: **no hitches? well, we must do something to remedy **that**...glad you're enjoying it!

**soccer-bitch: **thanks for the review, as always..lol.

**lometari: **when you drop out of school and just write fanfiction, can i join you? school's killing me.

**lariren-shadow:** if missing an update or two means long reviews, by all means, do your homework! lol..yes, lothiriel is a bad little munchkin (of course, i don't think that anyone in her family really knows that she's not so innocent...except maybe amrothos). and you will eventually find out what's going on with aela and faramir, but i have dropped hints in a couple chapters (there's one in this one). it really helps if you know your oldies. i hope i answered your questions about why lothiriel wasn't punished as well as why amrothos and faramir are helping her.

**charlotte1:** i have something special? go me! i'm glad you're liking my lothiriel...she's a nice change from my other portrayals of her (she's always the innocent one, so i decided to pull a switcheroo).

as always, please review!


	18. Plans Go Awry

::disclaimer:: if i owned eomer, i would have sold him for a billion trillion dollars on ebay...but i'd ship him off and never get the money back. good thing i don't own him (or the royal house of dol amroth...all of whom are gorgeous) after all.

* * *

Chapter XVIII 

The next morning brought Amrothos to Éomer's room. "How could she have been so careless as to fall asleep at the pub? Adar was ready to throttle her!" he said, bursting into Éomer's chambers. It was the first time he had seen the young Amrothian angry, and it wasn't a pretty sight.

"What?" asked Éomer, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Amrothos turned to him, as if just noticing his presence. "Lothíriel," he stated. "She didn't come home last night."

"I know," said Éomer sleepily.

Amrothos stopped mid-rant. "You know!? How?"

"She fell asleep while we were sitting at the table," he explained, realizing that he should have awoken her after all. "Aela told me to take her upstairs to an empty room, so I did."

"Valar, Éomer, you couldn't have done anything worse. Adar was in a rage this morning when he realized she never came home. She showed up about an hour ago, and he's been yelling at her ever since. He's already declared her punishment."

Éomer's stomach dropped. "Another punishment? She'll still be at the festival, won't she?"

"Aye," Amrothos said, falling heavily into a chair, "but that's all she will be doing. Adar has decreed that she is not to go beyond the palace walls until the end of the festival. Even then, she can no longer go out unless she has a chaperone—and that means either Elphir or Erchirion or possibly Faramir because I failed in my attempts to make her behave."

"Is there anything I can—"

"No, there isn't," he snapped back. He sighed, running his hand through his curls. "Lothíriel's going to have to work this out herself. She knows better—it's not your fault."

"What do we do?"

Amrothos shrugged. "What can we do but wait?"

* * *

Evening could not come quickly enough. Éomer spent much of the afternoon preparing for the evening's festivities, though he had little to do. At last, the sun began to set, and he was able to make his way to the gardens. The royal household was already in attendance, greeting their guests as they came. Lothíriel wore a light green dress with a dark green shawl, accented with silver jewelry. She stood between Elphir and Erchirion, which made Éomer wary as he came toward them. "Good evening, milady," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "You look lovely this evening." 

"I thank you, milord," she replied stiffly. "You ever have flattered me." Erchirion glared at him, obviously suspicious.

"It would only be flattery if it were a lie," he answered. He greeted Imrahil and Saeriel in turn and then found a seat with Aela and Erulehton, who had come with many of the other residents of Dockside.

"It seems you just made your way through shark-infested waters," whispered Erulehton.

"I fear that had the daggers in their eyes been real, I would not be sitting with you," he replied.

Erulehton chuckled. "Indeed."

* * *

It was a raucous night. The people of Dockside seemed to enjoy getting drunk at someone else's expense even more than at their own. The music was loud, the singing bawdy, and the dancing lively. For once, Éomer was enjoying himself without the company of the nobility. He danced with many girls, including Aela. She was a wonderful dancer, and Éomer told her so. She laughed and said, "I had a wonderful teacher." 

"And who was that?" he asked, smiling.

"Faramir, of course."

"Of course," he repeated brightly. "Might I ask you a question, then?"

"You already have, but you may ask another."

"If you and Faramir are so close, why do you not marry?"

She fingered the silver chain at her neck. "We go a long way back," she said after a moment. "Lothíriel introduced us. We flirt, of course, but we both know it could never really be."

"And why not?"

"Because of his father," she said. "Lord Denethor. He is a spiteful and arrogant man. He doesn't know I exist—and it is a good thing, too, because I know he would never let Faramir come to Dol Amroth again."

"Oh," he said quietly. "I have heard of Lord Denethor, but I did not know that he was so heartless to deprive his son of love."

"He would deprive his son of everything if he thought it were possible," she said, breaking away suddenly. Éomer watched her go, wondering what she meant.

* * *

As Lothíriel had said two nights before, Imrahil left the festivities not long after the feast ended. Surprisingly, she went with him, claiming a headache from the noise. "I would rest tonight," she said, "so that I may enjoy the festivities tomorrow eve." Smiling slightly, she linked arms with her father and walked out of the garden. 

Éomer and Erulehton watched Lothíriel leave. "The way you look at her, you'd think neither of you will ever see her again!" laughed Aela as she and Faramir sat down next to them.

"I wasn't—were you?" they asked each other.

"Ha! You've just proven your guilt the both of you!" Faramir exclaimed. "Now listen to me, I know a way to return Lothíriel to Imrahil's graces."

"What way is that?" asked Éomer, intrigued.

"It's really very simple—a wonder no one else has thought of it." He leaned closer. "You go back to Rohan!" he said brightly, as if it solved all the problems of the world. "You see, once you go home, Imrahil will let his punishment slack, and she will be free to go wherever she wishes again." Aela rolled her eyes and punched Faramir lightly. "What?" he said, "it's true!"

"That may be," she replied, "but I don't think it helps our lovelorn friend."

"Yes, but it helps your lovelorn brother," Faramir explained, "and that keeps me in his good graces."

"Ha! I knew it!" cried Erulehton. "This was all a ruse to get Aela in your bed!" He turned to Éomer. "Every time he comes to Dol Amroth, he tries to convince me to let him take off with my sister. He hasn't won her yet."

"That's what you think," Faramir said evenly. He turned to Aela, taking her hand and kissing it. "We have been lovers for years, your sister and I," he said, turning back to Erulehton. "It has been quite entertaining, courting behind your back."

Erulehton laughed. "I do not doubt it."

So the night went, with the companions bantering back and forth. Éomer joined in half-heartedly, but his thoughts were mostly with Lothíriel. As the noisy celebrations began to die down, Amrothos and one of the girls Éomer recognized from the Wine-maker's night joined them.

"Good evening, my friends," Amrothos said, seating himself. "May I introduce you to the lovely Faerlaneth."

The girl blushed sweetly. "Please, Amrothos, you embarrass me when you say that," she whispered.

"I am sorry, my sweet, it shan't happen again," he promised, kissing her cheek and making her blush even more.

"Amrothos, I do declare, you'll kill the poor dear with your teasing," scolded Aela. "Now, tell us the real reason you have joined us. Surely it is not just to show off your new-found companion." She grinned at the timid wine-maker's daughter, who smiled nervously in return.

"You are right, as usual, Aela," he conceded. "In truth, I am delivering a message from my dear sister to one Éomer of Rohan." Éomer perked up at the mention of his name. Amrothos grinned. "She says to meet her at the centaur in twenty minutes. Be careful that you are not followed."

* * *

**A/N:** swoosh! bet you can't guess what's coming up next! what? the midnight rendezvous? drat. i was hoping it would be a surprise..lol. oh! and i forgot to mention in the last chapter, that "buion na 'ell" is sindarin for "i serve you with joy." amrothos says that at some point. now, on to the replies! 

**Replies:   
lotr-nutcase:** i updated, now it's your turn!**   
lady hades: **your reviews always make me smile...and never fear! elphir won't be in the way of this rendezvous!**   
hotdogfish: **yeah, i'm really sorry about it, too. thanks for the review!**   
lometari: **moi aussi on all accounts with dropping out of school. one and a half more years and i'm free to go to whatever college i want! yay! and never fear! imrahil won't get in the way of this rendezvous!**   
soccer-bitch:** thanks for the review!**   
lariren-shadow:** i don't know if i'll tackle amrothos' fear of horses...maybe in a short companion piece or something, but this story's long enough as it is (i'm considering making it a two-parter). yeah, there was hint in the last chapter, as well as one in this chapter. it's all got to do with THE SONG. the one that haunts me...**   
gypsyswordgoddess: **yeah, if i'd been able to vote, i would have. not that it would have mattered...i'm in tennessee—red(neck) as can be. and don't worry...i don't update because of schoolwork, not politics.

::a quick note:: does anyone else find it odd that 58 people have me on their author alert lists, but only 5-10 people actually review?


	19. Midnight Rendezvous

::disclaimer:: i own nothing except the plot and the secret passageway from my bedroom to edoras (or vice versa).

* * *

Chapter IXX

"You came at last," she said smiling.

"I was waylaid by a nobleman. He proposed a drinking contest, but I declined."

"Good." Lothíriel leaned up and kissed him longingly. Éomer returned the guesture, feeding fire with fire. She moaned slightly. "Come with me," she breathed, breaking away.

"Where?" he whispered.

She smiled and shook her head, instead taking his hand. She led him through the gardens toward the palace. Silently, they wove through the trees until they reached a small porch with columns that held up a balcony. She released his hand and made her way to a place where the wall and one of the columns stood close together. Éomer followed. "This is the place," she said. He looked more closely at the column and realized that some unnamed person had hacked footholds into the marble pillar. He looked to Lothíriel.

"You don't mean for us to climb that, do you?" he whispered.

"Certainly. I use it all the time as an escape route. All of the balconies have them—in case there is a fire or someone is in need of a hidden exit." And with that, she proceeded to make her way up the wall. When she reached the top, she swung over the rail and looked down at him. "Are you coming?" she asked.

He sighed heavily and reluctantly scaled the wall. "Where are we?" he whispered, looking out across the gardens, for he had not seen this balcony before.

"My balcony," she answered, gliding toward the door. "And this is my room." She opened the great double doors, revealing a large, breezy bedroom.

He turned and gave her a reproachful look. "Lothíriel, we can't—"

"Why not?" She walked back to him. "We love each other."

He turned back to the railing. "I should go."

As he spoke, someone knocked on the door. "Lothíriel, are you in there?"

Her eyes went wide. "Erchirion," she breathed, so softly that Éomer wasn't entirely certain she'd spoken.

"Lothíriel?"

"Just a minute," she called, pushing Éomer toward her bathroom. He tried to protest, to say he'd just climb down the balcony, but she shut him in the bathroom. She hurriedly pulled on her robe, clutching it tightly around her neck, and opened the door to Erchirion. "Yes, brother?" she asked as he pushed his way into her room.

"Where is Éomer?"

"What?"

"I just came from his rooms. He wasn't there." Erchirion turned to his sister. "Lothíriel, if you are hiding him in here, I will find him, and I will have to report it to Adar." He walked toward the bathroom.

"Erchirion, believe me, he is not here. I haven't seen him since I left the gardens."

"Well then, you certainly will have no qualms in allowing me to use your bathroom." He put his hand on the doorknob, turned it, and walked right into Éomer. "Lothíriel! You lied!" He whirled on his sister. "Lothíriel, why are you doing this? You cause yourself more trouble by bringing—" He stopped mid-sentence, rolled his eyes, and fell to the floor. Éomer stood behind him, a book in his hand.

Lothíriel gasped. "What did you do?"

He shrugged. "I couldn't let him raise the alarm."

"We need to get him out of here. Hopefully, he won't remember what happened." She paused a moment. "We'll take him back to his room and put him to bed. Can you carry him?"

Éomer bent down and lifted him up. "If it's not too far," he huffed.

"It's just down the hall." She opened her door and peered out. "It's clear. Let's go." They walked down the hall quickly, Lothíriel stopping them just a few doors down. "In here." She opened the door and allowed him in. "Lay him on the bed." Éomer complied.

"Now what?"

"We'll leave him in here and go back to my room." She smiled sweetly.

Éomer looked at her. "Or maybe we should leave him in here and I should go back to my own room."

"Don't be silly," she said. "If anyone sees you coming down this hall, they'll know where you've been."

Éomer sighed. She was right, of course, and he had already gotten himself into enough trouble. "Very well, we'll go back to your room."

"Wonderful!" she said and kissed him on the cheek.

* * *

The moment they returned to Lothíriel's room, Éomer went to the balcony. "Goodnight, Lothíriel," he said as he swung his leg over the railing.

"Éomer! Wait!" She ran toward him.

He stopped, straddling the rail. "What?"

"Surely you will not leave without a goodnight kiss?" she said, batting her eyelids.

He knew he would probably regret it later, but what was the harm in an innocent kiss? "Very well, _one_ kiss."

"You should stand on the balcony. It wouldn't do for you to fall down."

Éomer sighed heavily, but complied with her wishes anyway. "Is this better?"

She smiled. "Much."

She came toward him, put her arms around his neck, and tilted her head up to kiss him. He leaned down, and their lips met. She pressed against him while somehow walking backwards into her room. When Éomer realized what she was doing, he pulled away. "No, Lothíriel," he said, though his voice was husky with desire. "You know we cannot."

"Don't be silly," she said. "We most certainly can."

But Éomer shook his head, firming his resolve. "No." And then, "Not yet."

Lothíriel smiled almost impishly. "Not yet, then."

"Goodnight, Lothíriel," Éomer said again as he climbed over the railing.

"Goodnight," she whispered back.

* * *

Éomer trudged through the gardens toward his room. Lothíriel set his heart on fire, and it had taken all of his strength to stay aloof. He walked along the pathways lit by both moonlight and lamplight, thinking of the dark-haired princess who had captivated him. She was a paradox, she had admitted that the first day they met. And she frustrated him with her sometimes flirting, sometimes deadly serious attitude. Éomer sighed. He could not continue to stand on the edge of trouble; if he were caught, both her family and his uncle would kill him. He wandered through the fountain garden, coming to a stop at the centaur. He looked up at it, as if it would give him the answers he needed.

"What do I do?" he said aloud.

"You could ask for her hand." Éomer whirled to find the speaker. It was Erulehton; he leaned against a column of a nearby pavilion. The man smiled wryly. "It would go better for you than it would for me."

"How did you know?"

"That you have been with Lothíriel?" Erulehton laughed. "Have you forgotten what I told you? I was with her once, I know how she works. But we have changed, we have both moved on. She has found you. And I daresay you are a far better man than I."

"But I do not want to marry her," Éomer protested, sitting down.

"Not yet," said Erulehton, moving to join him.

"Not yet," Éomer repeated. He looked up. "Is that all there is to it? Saying 'not yet'? Does that make it easier?"

"Yes, and no. Saying 'not yet' implies that something will eventually happen. Éomer, whatever you do, do not say that unless you mean it. Eru knows I left her behind." With that, Erulehton rose, leaving Éomer to contemplate his words at the feet of the centaur.

* * *

**A/N:** see? i promised that neither elphir nor imrahil would ruin the moment! i was going to have this chapter end with erchirion finding eomer in the bathroom, but it would have been a very short chapter (not to mention that i would have been torturing my beloved readers with the cliffie). as it is, this is still shorter than i intended, but i couldn't find a better place for the break. now, on to the replies!**Replies:**

dancin' over the edge: you'll create a cult in my honor? i'm flattered…but if you sacrifice bad fanfics, make sure you include my three duds (thy heart lies open, windchasers, and pyrate queen). they're awful.  
**blue eyes at night:** yeah, 18 was definitely filler. or, more precisely, a bridge chapter. i'm glad i'm not the only one who has people that never review..lol. it makes me feel better.  
**lotr-nutcase:** i hope you enjoyed the rendezvous. the song you'll have to figure out on your own. i should have given enough clues on where it's from. and i'll give you a hint: it has to do with the real-life erulehton. and remember, "you're a fine girl" (i dare you to google it). oh! and yeah, i'll take a one-shot…you never did fulfill your bet…  
**elvenstar5:** thankies for the review! and i know what you mean about never having time…stupid homework…grrr.**  
lariren-shadow:** i was thinking two parts because it's getting so long (the longer the story, the fewer new readers), but now i'm not so sure. i think the next week (in the story) will go a lot faster than this one, and then i'll be ready to finish it up (almost). i hope i answered your questions about what would happen if they were caught. and no fights between eomer and erulehton: they know where they stand in her heart. the hint for the song is in the vicinity of the part about denethor…it's not in the dialogue; look in the actions of the characters.  
**soccer-bitch:** thankies, as always!  
**prettyfoot:** erulehton still loves lothiriel, but they're not _in_ love. there is a difference (one is mutual, the other is not). thankies for the review!**  
lady hades:** i don't know that mine is one of the few good ones…i've read some really fantastic ones. hope you liked the rendezvous, sorry you couldn't come along..lol. i'm glad i make you feel better!**  
gypsyswordgoddess:** i know my vote didn't count, considering i'm still underage. agonizing? scandalous? who, me? ::looks innocent::**  
hotdogfish:** thankies muchly!**  
lometari:** you caused me to think very much about my plot, and while i haven't worked out all the details, i do have an idea as to how they become friends (which will hopefully be addressed before too much longer). 


	20. New Freedom

**::IMPORTANT NOTE::** everyone needs to go back and re-read the second half of chapter 19 if you read it before friday (11/26). i made an **extremely** important plot change**. if you do not re-read it, you will be very very confused.** thank you.

::disclaimer:: i don't own it...unfortunately.

* * *

Chapter XX

The next morning, the breakfast hall was quite empty when Éomer walked in. "Good morning!" said Amrothos, the only occupant. "I trust you slept well?"

"Very well, especially considering the reacket you and Faramir were making outside my window."

"Was that your window?" the young prince asked. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to disturb you." He grinned cheekily, betraying his tale.

Éomer raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

"But seriously," Amrothos said, "how was my sister last night?"

"I am sure she slept wonderfully in her own bed, since she didn't have drunkards singing bawdy songs outside her room all night," replied Éomer.

Amrothos glanced at him. "Then you and she did not—?" He let the question hang.

"Your sister is as innocent as the day we met."

Amrothos snorted. "And how innocent is that?"

Éomer shrugged. "That, I could not tell you. But I can assure you, I have done nothing to corrupt said innocence."

"What, our singing was for naught?" asked Faramir, joining in the conversation as he sat at their table.

"I am afraid so."

"Well, well, well, look at what the cat dragged in," called Amrothos as Erchirion walked in, a hand on his forehead.

"Please, not so loud," he said, slumping into a chair.

"Had a little too much to drink, brother?"

"I don't remember," he replied faintly. "The last thing I remember before waking is—" he squinted, as if concentrating, "—going to Lothíriel's room to check on her." He looked pointedly at Éomer.

Éomer's stomach did flip-flops. If Erchirion remembered him being there….

He continued, "She was there, and we spoke, and then, nothing." He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Amrothos, do you have any of that head-clearing stuff?"

"I'm sorry, I've used it all." Amrothos turned to his cousin. "Faramir?"

"I may have some in my rooms. If not, I know where to get some more."

"Good. I need it."

"Suilad, mellyn!" exclaimed Lothíriel brightly as she waltzed into the breakfast hall. "Manen le?"

Amrothos rolled his eyes. "In an Elvish mood this morning, lovely sister?"

She grinned. "Ú-chenion."

Faramir looked at Amrothos. "I believe she is."

"Tolo, mado go nin!" She seated herself and began to heap food onto her plate. Taking a bite, she said, "Maer aes hen!"

"Lothíriel, please, you are making my head hurt."

"Yes, Lothíriel," Amrothos laughed, "you know what thinking does to Erchirion."

"Bado mîbo orch," he snarled.

"A bit touchy this morning, brother?" asked Lothíriel, speaking Common at last. She sniffed. "I figured you would be after last night."

Erchirion responded by glaring at her from under his eyebrows.

"Do not pester him this morning, Lothíriel," chided Faramir. "Wait until he has gotten rid of his headache!"

"Aye," agreed Amrothos, "and then you should tease him to no end!"

* * *

With no small amount of trepidation, Éomer knocked on the door to Imrahil's study. "Come in," said a muffled voice from the other side of the door. Taking a deep breath, Éomer opened the door. Imrahil looked up from the papers strewn across his desk. "Ah, Éomer, what can I do for you on this fine morning?"

"I-I have a question for you, milord."

Imrahil smiled warmly. "Please, have a seat." He gestured to a chair opposite his own. "Would you care for some wine?" Éomer shook his head. "No? Well then, ask away."

His words came out in a rush. "I was wondering if you would allow me to escort your daughter to the festival tonight."

Imrahil sat back in his chair. "Éomer, you know that she is being punished."

"Aye, sir, but it was not her fault. I am to blame."

"You?" said the prince. "If you have lain—"

"Nay, sir, I did not," Éomer interjected quickly. "We were at Saberman's. Amrothos and Faramir were there as well. Lothíriel fell asleep and Aela said they could put her up for the night. I did not realize at the time that it would cause her trouble, or I would have awakened her."

"You're a good lad, Éomer, but stay away from my daughter."

"But sir—"

"Lothíriel is not yet twenty. She is impetuous and naïve. In a few years, she will marry a lord of Gondor. I do not want that compromised."

"Yes, sir." He added in his mind that Lothíriel was not very naïve and had been successfully compromised long before he came to Dol Amroth. Nonetheless, he decided to pursue his request again. "Sir?"

"Yes, Éomer?"

He gulped. "It is for that very reason that I wish to escort Lothíriel. We have been meeting in secret since the festival began. I do not want to go behind your back. Please allow me to escort her tonight."

"Amrothos and Faramir have been helping you, yes?" Éomer nodded, knowing it was fruitless to lie. "Erchirion nearly caught you last night, lad. I don't know what you did to him to make him forget—honestly, I don't want to know—but it certainly worked."

"How did you—?"

"I have ears, too, my boy. I may be old, but I am not deaf." He leaned back in his chair again. "Éomer, because you have come to me and been honest about what happened at Saberman's, I believe Lothíriel can be released from her punishment. You may escort her tonight, and tomorrow, if you like, but if I hear of another rendezvous like last night, I will personally lock you in the dungeons and melt down the key. Understood?"

"Aye, sir." Éomer stood. "Thank you, sir." He bowed slightly and left.

* * *

There was no one in the breakfast hall except Saeriel and Alphros. "They were going to the stables, I think," she told Éomer. "Faramir wanted to show off his stallion. They said something about a picnic, so you best hurry if you want to catch them."

"Thank you," he said, and he dashed off to the stables to find the others.

* * *

"Ah, Éomer! There you are!" Faramir smiled. "We were just going to send someone to fetch you. Please, come see my horse."

"In a moment," said Éomer, breathing heavily. "First, I must speak with Lothíriel." Lothíriel furrowed her eyebrows, but came over to him. Faramir and Amrothos followed. "Alone," he added, looking pointedly at the men. They backed away.

"What is it?" Lothíriel asked quietly.

"I spoke with your father," he explained quickly. "I told him of our meetings. Shush," he said when she began to speak. "He has given me permission to escort you to the festival tonight and tomorrow, as well."

"Truthfully?" she exclaimed. "That's wonderful!" She hugged him.

"What has happened that is so wonderful?" asked Amrothos, coming up behind them.

Lothíriel let go of Éomer and turned to explain. "Adar has released me from my prison. Éomer will be escorting me for the rest of the festival."

Faramir looked at him gravely. "How much did he pay you?" Lothíriel rolled her eyes and punched him.

"Enough," replied Éomer dismissively. The others laughed.

"If you're done teasing me," said Lothíriel, "can we go on our picnic to celebrate my release?"

"Anything for you, dear sister," answered Amrothos. Lothíriel scowled and pushed him into a pile of dirt.

* * *

**A/N:** next up: a nice, quiet (haha...yeah right) picnic. and please don't be annoyed or anything about the plot change. i had a very good reason for it: they were not ready for it. and thankfully, balrogthane pointed that out to me. so, i made the change. and the story is better for it.

**Translations:  
**Suilad, mellyn! _Greetings, friends!  
_Manen le? _How are you?  
_Ú-chenion. _I don't understand.  
_Tolo, mado go nin! _Come, dine with me!  
_Maer aes hen! _This food is delicious!  
_Bado mîbo orch. _Go kiss an orc._

**Replies:  
lariren-shadow: **well, if you read the revised chapter, you know that's not true anymore. but thanks for the review anyways!  
**lotr-nutcase: **take that plot bunny and run with it. it's beyond my scope. and if you are upset about the change of plans, never fear: their time will come.  
**balrogthane:** i've already talked to you. meh. i have nothing else to say except i hope you enjoyed the banter in this chapter.  
**elvenstar5: **teachers just have no appreciation for the fine art of fanfiction..lol. thankies for the review!  
**blue eyes at night: **maybe the change i made to ch. 19 was drastic enough to get more reviews. i hope so, since that's the whole reason for the change..lol, _not_.  
**hotdogfish: **thankies for the review!  
**mrsblonde1503: **yeah, the song's called "brandy." but don't tell anyone else that. they're supposed to figure it out on their own. and i'll be watching for men in black suits now…::gets shifty-eyed as doorbell rings::  
**lady hades: **well, you can see how it worked out. eomer felt so bad for forgetting you, he made me build a time machine so he could go back and correct his mistakes. unfortunately, he got mugged in the park by some dunlendings and ended up getting going to the er to get stitches. he says maybe next time, ok?  
**rana ninque: **::blushes:: thank you!  
**lometari: **lol..of course he deserved it! he ruined the moment! but it turned out for the best, because if that hadn't happened, eomer never would have run into erulehton and then never decided to talk to imrahil.


	21. The Grand Picnic

::disclaimer:: you know i don't own this. now read the story.

* * *

Chapter XXI

It was nearing noon when the four companions at last drew their horses to a halt. They had come upon a wide creek, and Lothíriel had begged them to stop their ride there. "It's so beautiful!" she gushed. "And the creek will be perfect for a swim after!"

Rolling their eyes, the men agreed, though Amrothos could not stop from teasing her. "Lothíriel, you know that Adar does not want you to swim for at least half an hour after you've eaten!"

"Then we should swim first and then eat," she replied sweetly.

"Oh no we shouldn't!" said Faramir. "I'm famished!"

"Amrothos, I believe you could just forget to tell your father that you ate first and then swam," cut in Éomer.

Lothíriel grinned at him. "I agree with the horse-lord," she said.

"As do I," added Faramir.

The three looked at Amrothos, who furrowed his brow. Finally he sighed. "Just this once," he conceded, grinning. "Now let's eat!"

The meal was wonderful and full of laughter. Faramir and Amrothos entertained Éomer with stories of their cousin and sister, to Lothíriel's embarrassment.

"And then there was the time when she asked Uncle Denethor if—"

"Do you have to tell that one?" she wailed.

"Yes, he does," answered Faramir. "It's a good story."

"As I was saying," Amrothos continued, "Lothíriel asked our uncle if he would play kings and queens with her. She would be Tar-Míriel and he would be the evil Ar-Pharazôn, who forced her into marriage."

"Needless to say, my father was not terribly excited with the role Lothíriel chose for him," cut in Faramir.

"I daresay not," laughed Éomer.

"Adar was very amused by it all," said Amrothos. "And you should have seen it! Lothíriel over-dramatized the story a bit—"

"A bit?" snorted Faramir. "A bit? She called my father a pile of horse-dung in Elvish! I don't think I've ever seen him so angry at her before or since!"

"Anyway," said Amrothos, "she also changed the end of the story. Of course, Tar-Míriel actually did marry Ar-Pharazôn, but Lothíriel decided it was a bad ending, so she added a new one."

Éomer raised his eyebrows. "What sort of ending?"

"I stabbed him in the eye by accident," Lothíriel answered, determining that it was time she took over the tale.

"She claims it was by accident, but everyone knows she was angry because Uncle didn't want to play the bad guy."

"It was an accident, Amrothos. I was aiming for his neck," she huffed indignantly. "But while we are on the subject of embarrassing stories," she said, turning to Éomer, "I will tell you about Amrothos and the horse." She grinned wickedly.

"No, Lothíriel, I've expressly forbidden you from telling that one!" exclaimed Amrothos.

"Oh, so you can tell stories on me, but I can't say anything about you? 'Tis only fair, brother of mine."

"She has a point, you know," whispered Faramir.

"Well if you insist on telling that story, I'm leaving," said Amrothos. He began to walk towards the horses and promptly stepped into a gopher hole, tripped, and fell flat on his face. "On second thought," he said from the ground, "I think I'll stay."

Lothíriel raised an eyebrow at her brother as he hobbled back toward the group. "See what happens when you try to dodge consequences?" she said. "They just double up on you." Amrothos merely glared in reply. She smirked cheekily back and turned to Éomer. "Amrothos and the horse. When Amrothos turned—what was it, ten?—Adar gave him a horse. Really, it was just a little mountain pony, the kind with broad backs that are good for ten-year-old boys. Anyway, the very first day he had the pony, he wanted to go riding alone. Adar said he could, but only if he could saddle and mount it on his own. So he did. Except no one ever taught Amrothos to properly saddle a horse, so he had it both backwards and loose, and when he finally tried to mount the poor animal, the saddle slipped, and he ended up face-down in the mud. Of course, when he tried to get up, the beast began to move, dragging him along behind it."

Éomer looked at Amrothos, who scowled at both the memory and his sister. "No wonder you mislike horses," he said. "Though you should have been taught to saddle one long before your tenth birthday."

"Hmph."

"I think I've had enough embarrassing stories for one day," said Faramir, sighing. "I'm ready to head back to the palace."

"I'll come with you," said Amrothos.

Faramir turned to his other cousin. "Lothíriel?"

She shook her head. "I want to go swimming, remember?"

"Ah yes." He turned to Éomer. "Need I ask?" Éomer shook his head slightly. Faramir grinned. "Don't stay out too long; it looks like it might rain, and Uncle will be angry with you if you are late for dinner."

"Do not worry, my dear cousin. We're only swimming." Lothíriel smiled sweetly at him.

Faramir smiled back. "I only worry when you give me reason to worry, dear little cousin." She scrunched up her nose and stuck her tongue out at him. Faramir just laughed and rode off.

Lothíriel turned to Éomer. "You can kiss me now, or thank me later tonight," she said and then grinned. "Or you could do both."

"Or neither," he answered.

She sniffed. "You are no fun."

"I am going swimming," he said, and he headed toward the water.

Lothíriel flounced past him, quickly undoing the laces on her dress. "Then I'm coming with you," she proclaimed, pulling off all but her last layer of clothing, and leaped into the water, splashing Éomer in the process. She surfaced and smiled up at him, treading water. "Are you coming?" she asked. "The water feels wonderful!"

He sighed dramatically. "I suppose I shall." He took a step toward the water.

"Wait!" Lothíriel called.

"What?"

"You may want to take some of your clothes off. Otherwise, you might get dragged away. The water is much faster than it looks."

Éomer snorted. "I hardly think that I will be dragged away in trousers and a shirt, Lothíriel. Might I remind you that you are the one wearing a petticoat, something that is far more likely to be snagged by a wayward branch or caught in an undercurrent?"

"Yes, but I've been here before. I know how to swim in this water," she said. "You have not. You don't know where the dangerous spots are."

"Then why don't you tell me?"

"I can't remember them all. And besides, where's the fun in that?" She gave him a look that revealed her true intentions—intentions that were not as innocent as being dragged away by the rampaging waters.

"Oh, no you don't, Lothíriel. You are not getting me in that water now." Éomer glared at her. "I know what you're up to, and I know what it will lead to. If you try anything, we'll be caught, and I will be the one taking most of the responsibility. We are not going to get ourselves in trouble."

She sighed. "You are right of course," she said, swimming back to the shore. "Erchirion, or maybe Elphir, would ride up just when we both came up and would get the wrong impression. You would be sent back to Rohan, and I would either be sent to Minas Tirith with Faramir or forced into marriage with Lord Aermaethor." She climbed out of the creek and stood in front of him, close enough that he could feel her proximity. She looked up into his eyes and whispered, "You would be worth marriage to Lord Aermaethor."

Éomer looked into her grey eyes and knew she was quite serious. He leaned down to kiss her, but stepped away abruptly. He shook his head. "We cannot. I promise you, Lothíriel, when the time is right…." He drifted off.

She looked toward the city. "When is the time ever right?" she whispered.

* * *

**A/N:** yeesh, that took me a while. over a month! sorry that it took so long, guys, hopefully the next chappie will be up faster. but it might not. i've got a bunch of stuff coming up for english class, and a huge admissions thing to a top-notch summer program that has to be sent in before the 24th (it's free, but only 86 students out of about 900 submissions are accepted). and after that, i'm in a play in february. so the next one may not be coming for a little while. i should have the next chapter to hazy dawn out by the end of next week, though, so there's always that. and my christmas story, if i ever get around to it. anyways, enough about my hugely busy life. here's some replies to all of your wonderful reviews….

**Replies:  
balrogthane: **first off, i thought it might be a good idea if i mentioned the fact that this is a slightly AU story and that it starts roughly (in fact, almost exactly) two years before the battle of the pelennor. and no, you're not in trouble..lol. glad you liked the re-write on 19!  
**lariren-shadow: **ah yes, the singing. i couldn't help it…i read another fic once where eomer and a few of his soldiers gathered outside faramir and eowyn's window to sing bawdy songs on their wedding night, so that's where that idea came from.  
**blue eyes at night: **haven't read your story yet, but maybe one day, when i need something thoroughly out-there, i will. sorry again that this has taken so long.  
**elvenstar5: **this is probably later than you would have liked, but at least i did (finally) update!  
**lotr-nutcase: **don't forget, eomer's got another week in dol amroth (he's there for political reasons, not recreational)! and we're not getting to after the war until the last chapter (or possibly epilogue)…i have that part figured out at least.  
**rana ninque:** you are right, of course. he should have. i admit, that little plot twist about the real reason for coming to dol amroth was due to an evil plot bunny attack on my person. fear not, i have come up with a solution (albeit a slightly illogical one) that shall be revealed in due time!  
**lometari:** yes, she's free! but this update took me forever because i didn't know what to do with her new-found freedom. luckily, it came to me while i was on vacation. sort of.  
**mrsblonde1503: **sexy, yes, v.v. sexy. i don't think i'd want to tie him to my bed, though. i'd be scared of lothiriel finding us (which is why he only visits on weekends and holidays).  
**hotdogfish: **i hate ants, too. none at their picnic, though. no aunts either..lol.  
**gypsyswordgoddess: **i hadn't even thought of that! ooh! a new idea! let's see, how else can elphir make eomer's life miserable? ::starts making list::  
**dancin' over the edge: **glad you liked the change…it ended up being a much better chapter. also very glad you liked the appearance v. reality (aagh! english is taking over my brain! help me!!!). hope you enjoyed the picnic!


	22. Complicated

::disclaimer:: you know i don't own this. i'd love to have eomer over for dinner, though.

* * *

Chapter XXII

The ride back to the city was quiet. Lothíriel hardly spoke to Éomer, and he got the distinct impression that she was deep in thought. When they reached the gates, she looked at him. "I do not want to go to the festival tonight. I know you were going to escort me, but I do not feel well. I shall tell Adar not to expect me this evening."

Éomer nodded, wondering if perhaps she meant for him to leave the festival early and visit her. She had not complained of feeling ill before, but with her silence on the ride back, he was not sure that it was an act. They departed ways at the stables, Lothíriel going to her rooms and Éomer opting to visit Saberman's for a while.

* * *

Though it was just past noon, the pub was nearly empty. Éomer slid into a seat at the bar, and Erulehton came to take his order. "Ale, please," he said.

"What's wrong, Éomer?" the other man asked as he set the drink down. "You seem distracted." The Rohirrim gave him a glance, and Erulehton nodded slowly in recognition. "Lothíriel."

"Aye, Lothíriel." He took a long draught of his drink. "I've made her promises, Erulehton, and I don't know if I can keep them."

"What sort of promises?"

"I promised her that, when the time is right…." Éomer buried his head in his hands. "Why did I say it? She and I both know that it is an empty promise. Even if I had her father's blessing, I could not take her back to Rohan. I am not even supposed to be here." He swore in Rohirric. "Théodred should have sent someone else. I have only made a mess of things."

"Nonsense," said a voice from behind. Éomer jumped and turned on his barstool. It was—surprisingly—Erchirion. The older man sat down next to Éomer.

"What are you doing here?" he asked stiffly, noticing that Lothíriel's brother still looked like he was recovering from a hangover.

"I was looking for you. I saw Lothíriel in the palace—she was complaining of an upset stomach, but I didn't believe her—she said that you had come here. So," he continued, "I came here as well." He turned to Erulehton, who had busied himself with wiping the bar. "Erulehton, could you bring me an ale?" The bartender nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. The prince turned back to Éomer. "I am not stupid, and I have not forgotten that I found you and Lothíriel together in her room. While I did have a headache, I know it was not from too much wine." He looked evenly at Éomer. "Now, I want you to be honest with me, Master Horse-lord. What have you and my sister been doing for the past week? And start at the beginning, we have plenty of time before the feast."

Quite certain that he would not be able to lie to the prince, Éomer began to relate all of the events of his brief yet bizarre relationship with the princess. He told of his initial meeting with her, of his allergy to crab, of falling asleep in her arms numerous times, he even admitted to the real reason he had come to Dol Amroth, which was received with more surprise than anger from Erchirion.

"Have you told Adar of this?" he asked.

Éomer shook his head. "I do not know how to face him now. I was not expecting to be—how should I say it?—ensnared by your sister."

Erchirion laughed, and Éomer thought of Lothíriel's laugh, light and fluid. "That would be a good way of putting it." He sighed. "Perhaps it would be best if you did not tell Adar of your original intentions immediately. You should continue with the premise of making trade agreements and then include the possibility of a military alliance as an addition to your contract. And then you should return to Rohan, tell Lord Théodred the deal is set, and bring horses back to Dol Amroth."

"But what happens when your father sends things to us?"

Erchirion scratched his beard. "Say that you or whomever brings the horses will take the goods back to Rohan with them. That way, it saves Adar's merchants a journey and you your secrecy."

"That may work," replied Éomer. "But why are you helping me? As far as I can see it, you've no reason to do so."

"Many in my country do not trust your people. They see you as barbarians, little better than the Haradrim or even the Dunlendings that your people constantly fight. My uncle and my older brother are among these." He bit his lip. "I do not see it that way. Your people are different, yes, but it does not make you barbaric. You have light hair and lighter eyes, but so do the Wood-Elves, or so the tales say, though they are supposed to be of a leaner build. Your people are reputedly great warriors and even greater horse-men." He grinned. "Besides, they say your king's father married a Gondorian. You can't be all bad."

"Morwen of Lossarnach," whispered Éomer, "Shieldmaiden of Rohan. My grandmother."

Erchirion raised his eyebrows. "You are that close in line to the throne?"

Éomer nodded. "If my cousin never marries, I will be his heir. Of course, my becoming king is highly unlikely; Théodred is well sought-after in Edoras, even if he is forty."

"I see." They lapsed into silence. Erchirion shook his head and then turned to glance out the window. "Blast, it's raining." Éomer turned to see that the prince was right, though he had not noticed it begin. "Well, I suppose we should go," the older man said. "We wouldn't want to be late for the evening's festivities, even if they are held inside."

* * *

The festivities that night were subdued. The rain had gone from a light sprinkle to a full downpour as Éomer and Erchirion hurried back to the palace, and more than one of the guests were a bit soggy when they arrived.

Éomer sat with Erchirion and Amrothos at the lower end of the table. They filled Amrothos in on the events of the day. He agreed with Erchirion on the best way to handle the trade agreements. "It would have been better if you had come out with the truth in the beginning, though."

"I know," said Éomer, "but Théodred did not think it was wise."

"Where is Lothíriel?" said a voice from behind them. The three men turned as one. The man who had spoken was tall, with reddish-brown hair already tinged with grey.

"Lord Aermaethor," Erchirion said evenly.

"Prince Erchirion." The man—Lord Aermaethor—inclined his head. "Your sister is absent this evening, I see."

"She did not feel well," the prince ground out.

"Perhaps she has been poisoned by the _rochir_'s deadly fumes." He sneered at Éomer.

"Or perhaps she did not want to be poisoned by the lies that follow you, Aermaethor," muttered Amrothos.

"What did you say, princeling?" he snapped.

"He didn't say anything," cut in Erchirion. "Did you, Amrothos?" He looked pointedly at his brother.

"Nothing at all," Amrothos said lightly.

Aermaethor grunted. "I have better things to do than talk with second and third sons." He turned to Éomer. "I'll be seeing you, _rochir_." He walked away and disappeared into the crowd.

Erchirion turned to Éomer. "Éomer, have you met Lord Aermaethor? He entertains the idea that Lothíriel is in love with him which causes him to be oblivious to the fact that she cannot stand the man."

"I wonder why she does not like him," said Éomer. "Is he always like that?"

"Only when he thinks that Lothíriel is going to leave him."

"I see. And he has never thought that maybe Lothíriel was never with him to begin with?"

Amrothos snorted. "Lord Aermaethor? See reality? That is more unlikely than Lothíriel's consenting to marry him."

"What is this?" asked Faramir, coming toward the three men. "Are you three having fun without me?"

"Always," said Amrothos.

"That is too bad. I have a message for Éomer." The ranger looked at the horse-lord. "Lothíriel sends her greetings and asks that you meet her below your window."

Éomer looked at Erchirion, who nodded. "Go on. I won't tell a soul."

* * *

**A/N:** well there you have it. some recon work. and i hope it wasn't too sudden, because i was a little nervous about that. oh yes! i'm starting up a xanga/blogring/thing dedicated to e/l fics. anyone interested, visit my profile, click on the link that says xanga, and join us!

**Replies:  
blue eyes at night: **lol..now that you've met lord aermaethor, are you sure that eomer'd be worth the marriage? wait a second, what am i saying? of course he would be!  
**lariren-shadow:** oh yes, a seductress she is. glad you liked the chappie!  
**lometari:** hehe…someone actually caught the joke about denethor playing ar-pharazon! hooray! i'm glad somebody liked that part!  
**lirima tindomiel:** wouldn't we all? lol..i enjoyed coming up with the embarrassing stories (they were so easy, too!).  
**quizabella: **i think you tried to e-mail me again, and it still didn't work. i don't know what's up with the blasted thing.  
**dancin' over the edge:** i was a little worried about that transition…sometimes they can be more abrupt than you realize. thanks for allaying my fears (ooh, big word!).  
**hotdogfish:** as always, thankies very muchly for the reviews!


	23. Forget Me Not

**A/N:** long time, no update. here it is at last, chapter 23, re-written from what i could remember and changed drastically (but for the better, i think).

:disclaimer: i don't own it. if i did, i wouldn't have had to worry about my stupid computer erasing everything.

* * *

Chapter XXIII

"There you are," said Lothíriel, coming out of the shadows of the balcony as Éomer arrived. "I was beginning to wonder if Faramir had given you the message."

"Aye, he did, just after Lord Aermaethor left our table," he answered, taking her hand.

The princess raised an eyebrow. "So you met him. And what did you think?"

"I believe Lord Aermaethor is one of the most pompous asses I have ever met."

Lothíriel grinned and kissed him. "I am glad we agree."

Éomer kissed her back and then pulled away. "May I ask you a question?"

"You just did," she said amusedly, "but you may ask another."

"Why did you not come tonight? Was it because of him? And tell me the truth, not some silly fabrication made of word games."

"Yes," she said, "it was because of him. And at the same time, it was not." She moved away from Éomer's embrace, coming to lean against a column. "I needed to sort some things out, and I do that best when I am alone. Tell me, Éomer, why do you love me? Or do you love me? Perhaps I am just a passing fancy that you will forget when you return to Rohan."

"Lothíriel, I could not forget you even if I wished to," he said honestly. "And I love you. I do not know why, but I do." He took a deep breath. "Which is why I want you to follow me." He grasped her hand and led her to a column near the wall.

Her eyes went wide. "Are—are you sure?"

Éomer laughed. "No. I have not been sure of anything since I met you."

"But—" She bit her lip, and for the first time, Éomer thought she actually looked frightened.

"What is it?"

"Oh, I cannot do this!" she cried. "It does not seem right, now that we are at the brink. I am sorry, Éomer. I-I cannot do this. Goodnight." She dashed off into the gardens, heedless of the now-steady rain. Éomer followed only to lose her, but he thought he knew where she would go.

She was slumped at the feet of the centaur. Éomer approached her cautiously. When he was certain she would not run off, he sat beside her, not caring that his clothes were wet and muddy. "Go away," she muttered.

"Lothíriel, I did not mean to upset you," he said, studiously ignoring her demand. "I only wished—I thought it was what you wanted."

She leaned her head back, sighing deeply. She turned her grey eyes toward him. "I have been a most awful flirt, haven't I?"

"Yes."

"And I led you to believe many things."

"Yes."

"And now you think we should make love."

"Lothíriel, I don't understa—" She put a finger to his lips.

"Let me finish. I have made a mess of things, flirting with you the way I have. And perhaps we would have made love last night, or even this morning, but I am fully sober tonight and you are not." A flicker of a smile swept across her face. "All this time, you have been the voice of reason while I tried to abandon all wisdom. But, Éomer, we truly are like that tale you told me. I am a princess, destined to marry a lord or prince or maybe even a king, and you are a knight, destined to serve your liege-lord. Our paths should never have crossed. I should have been distant but courteous. I should have left you to your own devices, let you wander the city on your own. Perhaps a few things would have remained the same, but this would not have happened." She looked helplessly at her hands.

"What is 'this'?" Éomer asked quietly.

"I would not love you," she whispered. "You should forget about me, Éomer. When you go back to Rohan, find yourself a pretty maid and marry her. You and I, we will never amount to anything. It would be best if we both moved on."

"Is that what you want, Lothíriel? Do you want me to return to Rohan and forget about you?"

"It does not matter what I want, only what must be."

"Lothíriel," he said softly, taking her face in one hand and forcing her to look at him, "no matter what, I could never forget you. I will go home to Rohan, but I will come back for you, if you will still have me. I do not know when, but someday, I will be back." He kissed her gently, stood, and walked slowly back to his rooms.

* * *

The morning dawned bright and clear after the previous night's rain. Éomer had not slept well, dwelling on the strange conversation with Lothíriel. She had seemed so sure of everything before, but now he realized that much of her confidence was pretense. His dreams had plagued him as well, and he told Faramir, Erchirion, and Amrothos about them at breakfast, hoping that they could shed some light on the visions. "I stood on the steps of Meduseld with Lothíriel. We were watching something—or someone—with joy. She laughed and said something and began to walk away when the dream faded to my sister. Éowyn was laughing and smiling at the unidentifiable dark-haired man from another dream. She was so happy and beautiful, when, suddenly, horror and fear filled her face. I called out to her, but she did not hear me. I ran to help her, but the scene changed again, and I stood upon the ramparts of Helm's Deep. Something drew its sword against me, and just before it felled me, I awoke."

"Sounds to me like you should lay off the wine," said Amrothos.

"That, or drink more," commented Erchirion.

They turned to Faramir, to see what he would suggest. The older man stroked his beard thoughtfully and then spoke quietly. "I would say that this was only a wishful-thinking dream, but I seriously doubt you wish fear and danger upon your sister. Perhaps it is a small glimpse of your future, Éomer; the Valar have been known to send truth in the form of dreams before. But then again, it could be a sign of too much wine and revelry." He grinned. "You should avoid any wine that Lothíriel offers you."

"By the gods, I hope it is only the wine. I would kill any man that dared to frighten my sister so."

"Éomer, it was a dream," Faramir said as he pried the man's white fingers from his tankard. "And if your sister is anything like yourself, I am certain she can take care of herself."

"I hope so," whispered Éomer.

Amrothos smiled reassuringly. "Come now, it is the last day of Ethuil Mereth, and we sit here worrying over dreams. We should be celebrating! I haven't been to the tournaments all week. What do you say we go? There's horse racing on the beach."

"Amrothos, you weren't supposed to tell him that!" cried Erchirion. "I had hopes of winning this year!"

The younger man ducked a punch from his brother. "Lothíriel would have beaten you again anyway," he pointed out.

"I am not entering the race." The four men turned startled gazes to Lothíriel, who stood in the doorway. She wore a simple blue gown and had her hair pulled partially back with flowers braided into it. "I will be in the Dancer's Square if you need to find me," she said. She walked into the hall, picked up a small loaf of bread, and left.

Amrothos raised an eyebrow. "Lothíriel's going to Dancer's Square instead of the races?"

"Who was that and what has she done with our sister?"

"She is of an age to do so," Faramir reminded them, though he, too, looked concerned.

Éomer merely shrugged uncomfortably, certain she was going to the Dancer's Square only to avoid him.

After a moment's awkward silence, Erchirion spoke again. "We should go, or we'll be late for the races." The men drained their cups and headed to the stables.

* * *

**A/N (again):** well, there you have it, folks. my first chapter since the great crash. up next is a day at the races and the final night of ethuil mereth. the week of trade agreements will not be nearly as long as the week of the festival, and next thing you know, there'll be an epilogue! also in the works (if you didn't know it already), is a fourth e/l fic from me. i'm very excited about it…i think it will be the best of my longer stories. also, i'd like to announce that if you want updates on how my chapters are coming along, check out my bio sporadically. or, you can save my xanga (link in my bio) to your favorites and check there.

**Replies:  
lotr-nutcase: **i'm glad you like it.  
**lady ot rings: **well, i re-revived it, and hopefully the computer won't die on me this time.  
**blue eyes at night: **you wanted romeo and juliet, i give you romeo and juliet! kind of. sort of. not really.  
**screwed by life: **glad you approve.  
**hotdogfish: **i agree.  
**lariren-shadow: **no, he can't die. not yet, anyways. and he isn't exactly like grima, just kind of similar. not as creepy. as for eomer and all that, i hope you enjoyed all of the irony i tossed into the story (i love sneaking things like that in!).  
**lometari: **you're not supposed to like him! and you are supposed to like erchirion! sorry this took so long to update…evil computer.  
**amon aredhel: **in all honesty, when i first wrote this, there was tom-foolery. but then the computer crashed and i lost everything. so i had to re-write it. this is what came out. i hope you like it anyway. but never fear! there may be some tom-foolery soon (not making promises, though)!  
**mrsblonde1503: **this was not fast. but i hope you'll continue reading.  
**rana ninque: **i had to look up his name again, but it means "sea-warrior" or "holy-warrior." either way, it's very stuck-up. i haven't decided how much trouble he'll cause (he may just grumble in the background). i'm glad erchirion's with us, too. eomer needs all the help he can get.  
**shorty51: **glad you like it! hope you enjoyed this chappie!  
**mexicandevil-roadcrew: **oh, yes, she's a minx, all right. but she's also got a very dramatic side (as seen in this chapter). i'm glad you liked the word games…i love playing with things like that!  
**capriceannhedican-kocur: **glad you like the story! hope you continue reading!


	24. A Day at the Races

:disclaimer: i only own them in my dreams.

* * *

Chapter XXIV

The four men made their way down to the beach after preparing their horses. It was a glorious day, made even better by the festivities going on in the city. Amrothos in particular received several posies from beautiful girls bedecked in flowers and bright colors.

"Don't you have enough flowers already?" asked Erchirion when his brother was handed yet another garland of flowers.

"Apparently not," said Éomer, laughing at the glare that Erchirion was shooting Amrothos. "But come on, Erchirion, we have races to win."

"You have races to win," the prince reminded him. "You're the one from Rohan."

"But I've never ridden on sand."

"If you slack off just so that I'll win, I'll tell Adar what I saw the other night," threatened Erchirion.

Éomer held his hands up in acquiescence. "Very well. No slacking."

"Come on, you two," said Faramir, "we'll be late and none of us will win."

* * *

Lord Aermaethor was at the beach when they arrived. Éomer sized up the man's steed: the stallion was not so big as Firefoot, but it looked meaner than a battalion of orcs. A stableboy was trying to saddle the beast, who was threatening to rear. Aermaethor stood to the side, flirting with a few of the girls that had come to watch the race.

Éomer nudged Erchirion. "Does the man not realize that his horse could kill that boy? The lad's less than half the size of the animal! Aermaethor should saddle his own steed."

Erchirion shrugged. "Perhaps that is the custom in Rohan, but here, many lords have squires for such."

"Perhaps it should become the custom here." As if to agree with Éomer's words, the great black beast rose up on its hind legs, extending its forelegs to hit the boy. The boy jumped out of the way just before it struck. Éomer ran toward the horse, reaching out for the reins. Slowly, he calmed the beast, whispering soothing words to it in Rohirric. As he handed the reins back to the stableboy, Aermaethor came toward him.

"What do you think you are doing, rochir?" snapped the man.

"Saving your stablehand from the horse," answered Éomer. "Something that you should have been doing."

"Do not tell me what I should and should not do."

"You do not deserve such a regal being." Éomer turned, ignoring the stares from the other racers, and walked back to where Erchirion was holding Firefoot.

Moments later, Aermaethor rode over to where they stood. He spat on the ground at Éomer's feet. "Stay away from my horse, myself, and my woman."

All three of the men standing near Éomer immediately went rigid, but it was Amrothos who lunged at Aermaethor. It was all that Faramir and Éomer could do to hold him back. "You stay away from my sister, you arrogant bastard," he shouted. "You leave her alone. She doesn't love you, she never has, and she never will. If I ever see you near her aga—" The end of his threat was stifled by Erchirion's hand over his mouth. The young prince struggled against his subjugators as Aermaethor trotted away. At last, the three men let him go. "Are you just going to let him do that?" he asked. "Just let him ride away? He insulted our sister, your cousin, your…." He trailed off, unsure of what to say to Éomer. "Are you going to let him go?"

"No," said Éomer quietly. He took up Firefoot's reins and walked toward the lord. "Aermaethor," he called. The man turned and looked at him. "I challenge you to a race, for the honor of Princess Lothíriel. If I win, you leave Lothíriel alone forever, unless she herself asks for you."

"And if I win?"

"It is up to you."

"You leave Dol Amroth and never return."

"You have my word." Éomer spat into his hand and extended it toward the other man.

Aermaethor wrinkled his nose in distaste, but did the same. The two men shook.

"You name the race," said Éomer.

"Do you see those rocks in the distance?" said Aermaethor. Éomer nodded. "To those rocks and back. Caladiel—" he nodded to the girl who had plagued Éomer and Amrothos a few nights before "—will declare the winner."

"Very well."

The two men mounted their horses and stood next to each other. Caladiel stepped forward. "On the word, 'ego.' Taith, penio, ego!"

The two riders took off at a break-neck speed. They were neck and neck, but gradually Éomer edged ahead. The rocks were not too far distant now, and he began to slow slightly to allow Firefoot the time and space to turn. Aermaethor caught up to him and smirked as he sped his horse through the turn. Éomer saw what was coming before it happened. Aermaethor's horse hit the ground with a shriek and a thud. Éomer was down on the ground and inspecting the horse before he knew what he was doing. He calmed it with soothing words and slow strokes along its neck. He was checking its legs when Faramir and Erchirion arrived, panting.

"Make sure Aermaethor is alive," Éomer said curtly, never taking his eyes from the horse. None of its bones were broken—a wonder after a fall like that. He guided the horse back up on its feet, still whispering to it. Satisfied at last that the horse was calmed, he turned to where Faramir and Erchirion were helping Aermaethor to his feet. The man's left arm was at an odd angle, and it took Éomer a moment to realize that it must have broken in the fall.

"Is the horse all right, Éomer?" asked Faramir.

"He's a little shaken, but he'll be fine."

"Good. We need to get Aermaethor to a healer." Éomer nodded mutely. "May he ride Firefoot?"

Éomer hesitated slightly before answering. "Don't rush him. He's already been run hard and he's not used to you."

"We'll bring Aermaethor's horse to the stables for him," said Erchirion. He turned to Éomer. "Are _you_ all right?"

"I am fine." He did not feel fine, though. A few years earlier, and that might have been him riding his horse to the brink, not caring about the danger. "I just need to walk for a bit."

Erchirion nodded, though his eyes betrayed his concern. The two men made their way back to the spectators that had stayed at the finish line. No one spoke, and the crowd soon dispersed, leaving only Éomer, Erchirion, and Amrothos.

"He got what he deserved," said Amrothos after a moment.

"He nearly killed his horse, Amrothos."

"That man does not deserve this horse," said Éomer quietly as he stroked the beast's neck. "Had Aermaethor been one of my people, he could have easily beaten me. His horse is still young, still has years to learn its own strength. And it is black, a rarity these days. He does not know his own fortune."

"Let's return his horse to the stables and find something a bit happier to dwell on, shall we?" said Erchirion. The other two nodded their assent, and the three men made their way back to the city.

* * *

They met Faramir again after tending to the horse. After a few minutes of discourse, they decided at last to find Lothíriel and get a meal. The four split up, Faramir and Amrothos heading toward Dockside and Éomer and Erchirion making their way to Dancer's Square and the Quarter.

Éomer had nearly forgotten his desire to see the Quarter in the daylight after all of the excitement since his first foray into the artisans' section of the city. Now, that desire was renewed, and he enjoyed looking at everything the shop windows offered. There were clay pots of all shapes and sizes, metal and marble and wooden statuettes, and fabrics that appeared to be made of thread so thin that it would melt at the touch. With all of these distractions, it was a wonder that Erchirion could get Éomer to leave the Quarter for Dancer's Square.

Though the square was wide, it was still crowded, and they had trouble searching through it. Erchirion saw a few of his friends from the cavalry and asked them if they had seen Lothíriel, but it was to no avail. None of them had seen her, and from the sound of it, she had never come to the square. Lothíriel had given them the slip. Annoyed and more than slightly perturbed with his sister, Erchirion rounded up Éomer, who was in danger of being swept off by the dancers, and they headed back to Dockside and Saberman's.

* * *

"I don't think she ever went to Dancer's Square," said Erchirion as he walked into the tavern. "No one, not even Ulthasos, who'd been there all day, had seen her."

"Blast." It was Faramir who spoke. "Where do you think she's gone?"

Amrothos shrugged. "Who knows? Wherever she is, we know she's not gallivanting with a lover. All three of them are accounted for: Éomer and Erulehton are both here, and Aermaethor's at the healer's."

"What's this?" said Aela as she brought them a round of drinks. "Who's at the healer's?"

"Lord Aermaethor," explained Erchirion. "He broke his arm after falling from his horse."

"Ah," she answered. And then, "I heard you were looking for Lothíriel."

"Yes," said Faramir, looking attentively at her. "Has she been by?"

"Not since last night." All four of them looked at her, startled.

"She came down here late last night to talk," said Erulehton, joining in on the conversation for the first time. "I walked her back to the palace afterward."

"Talk about what?" asked Amrothos.

Erulehton rubbed his chin. "I do not think I am allowed to say."

"Oh."

The group lapsed into silence, each lost in his own thoughts about the princess.

* * *

**translations:  
**_taith: _ready  
_penio: _set  
_ego: _go

**A/N:** would you believe me if i told you that the reason this took so long was because i was kidnapped and taken hostage by the king of rohan? no? ratsickles. well then, i'll tell the truth: i was kidnapped and taken host by the red sox. kind of. sort of. not really. anyways, sorry this took so long. i got sidetracked. but now that i'm out of my writing rut, i should be able to get this story finished soon! eomer's only got a week left in dol amroth, after all, and that week will be considerably shorter than this one was. but first, the final encounter with lothiriel during the festival. and i'm getting ahead of myself, so i'll just say this last thing before answering reviews: "the day rises" received an award at secrethavens! i got judges' choice for it! yay! my first ever fanfic award!

**now for the replies:  
****loremaster of anorien: **thank you for your review! i'm glad you like aela and erulehton. i might write a mini-fic about what happened to aela someday. i'm also very glad that you like eomer being chivalrous. the whole elphir thing is a bit over-dramatic, i admit, but he's also one of the least-developed characters in this. which is a bad excuse, but oh well.  
**capriceann hedican-kocur: **don't worry, they will get together. it may take them four years, but it will happen.  
**lariren-shadow: **i'm going to let everyone ponder about eomer's intentions in ch. 23, because i'm not sure what they were myself. and no, the dark-haired man was DEFINITELY not grima. if you didn't catch it, eomer dreamed backwards. first, he and lothiriel were smiling at elfwine. then, eowyn and faramir were together. and last, eowyn saw the witch-king.  
**blue eyes at night: **glad you liked the chapter. sorry again that this took so long.

**starnat: **thankies!  
**balrogthane: **i don't know that i'll ever fully recover from The Great Crash of 2005. i lost a lot of really good stuff in that. and ch. 23 wasn't terribly hard to write so differently. after all, i'd hardly touched the story in nearly 2 months.  
**quizzabella:** hope you liked the race! and i'm glad you like the way i've written lothiriel!  
**mad-aniviel: **she's definitely a minx. and don't worry, the word games will return. eventually. i promise!  
**shilly: **this probably wasn't as soon as you would have liked, but i hope you enjoyed it anyways!  
**lometari: **yes, it keeps the story going. :) and they have to be a little bit stubborn. otherwise, there'd be no tension in the story (yeah right, no tension).  
**ladyarian: **i'm glad you like my complicated lothiriel. and yes, eomer is TOTALLY awesome.  
**faerchithiel: **yes, tension. don't you love it? and there's more on its way! MWA-HAHAHA! ahem. thanks for the review.


	25. The Last Night

:disclaimer: i really should sue ridley scott for stealing my plot. ok, so lothiriel's not married, and she's not exactly the heir to jerusalem, and eomer's not really a blacksmith-turned-knight, but does anyone else find it odd that the love story in koh revolved around a girl flirting and teasing her way into a noble knight's heart, a storyline i've been working on for, oh, eight or nine months now? (btw, you should see that movie, it's good…even if they did steal the plot)

* * *

Chapter XXV

By some ill chance of luck, Éomer was seated next to Elphir at the feast that night. The prince seemed content to glare at him, and Éomer did not press him for conversation. Saeriel, however, would not allow the men to sit in silence the entire night, and she finally engaged the two in conversation about weapons. As the two men formed an uneasy truce, they discovered that they both favored weapons that could be used in the saddle, which of course led to conversation about horses. Éomer was surprised to learn that Elphir loved horses as much as Amrothos hated them.

"That is why I had little respect for you," the prince explained. "There have been rumors that Rohan has sold horses to the shadow in the east. I could not respect anyone who was party to that."

Éomer shook his head. "Neither could I. My uncle, even in his current state, would never allow it."

"In his current state?"

"He is unwell," Éomer said quietly. Elphir nodded.

"Lothíriel said something about that," said Saeriel, who was very pleased with her plan to make the men talk. "She was telling me that your uncle was quite sick. I do hope his health improves."

Elphir turned back to Éomer. "Speaking of Lothíriel, have you seen her today?"

"Not since this morning. She came to the breakfast hall and left, saying something about Dancer's Square. We went looking for her, but none of us found her."

Elphir ran a hand through his hair, something that was obviously a family trait. "Where has that girl run off to, do you think?"

"Wherever she's been, she's here now," said Saeriel, giving her husband a nudge. "She just walked in the door."

There was a collective intake of breath as the men in the garden saw Lothíriel. She wore a dark green dress trimmed with silver swans. Her jewelry was all mother-of-pearl and silver. Her smile was radiant as she came to sit between her eldest brother and Éomer.

"Where have you been all day?" asked Elphir.

"About," she answered sweetly. She turned to Éomer. "Good evening. I hope your day has been well."

"As well as it could have been," he said. He was surprised at her audacity; she was blatantly wearing the colours of Rohan. He had to admit, though, that she wore the green and white of his homeland well.

"As well as it could have been?" Lothíriel said, interrupting Éomer's thoughts.

"Didn't you hear?" asked Saeriel. "Lord Aermaethor broke his arm in a race today."

"I had not heard that," said Lothíriel. "I assume it was a horse race?"

Éomer nodded. "It is a wonder the horse did not break its own limbs."

"Well. We should not dwell on such a dismal topic," Lothíriel said after a moment. "I'm starved. I hardly ate anything all day."

"Where have you been then?" interjected Elphir.

"I already told you," she said. "I was about." With that, she began to eat, and the discussion was closed.

Dinner was a flurry of good food and better conversation. Faramir, Erchirion, and Amrothos eventually joined the other four at their table, and the eight (Amrothos had a lady with him) enjoyed the delicious meal together. As the tables were cleared away, Lothíriel took Éomer's hand and led him to the dance floor. The musicians led off with a waltz ("To allow your stomachs to settle after such a marvelous meal," claimed the fiddler, though Éomer saw the man wink at Lothíriel).

"So you and Elphir have made amends," commented Lothíriel as they moved slowly across the floor.

"You should have told me of his love of horses," said Éomer.

"How was I to know you would fight?" she asked. "Besides, this is more fun." She grinned.

"Of course you would say that," Éomer said.

"Yes." They danced in silence for a while, and as the song ended, she leaned close to him and whispered, "Meet me under the balcony at midnight."

"Which one?"

"Mine." She smiled elusively and allowed another man to whisk her away.

* * *

Éomer felt quite self-conscious as he stood underneath Lothíriel's balcony, waiting for the princess. He hoped that she would arrive soon; it would be just his luck if Elphir were to see him after having just made amends with the eldest prince.

"Éomer!" came a strained whisper from above him. "Éomer!" He looked up, and there was Lothíriel, smiling down on him. "Come on!" she said.

Sighing, he made his way to the hidden ladder and climbed up. "You could have just had me meet you up here," he said.

"I needed time to finish the preparations," she answered, sweeping into the bedroom.

Éomer let out a surprised gasp as he walked into the room. It was lit by several candles positioned about the room, giving it a flickering, ethereal glow. A small table with two chairs was placed near the fireplace; it was set with bread and cheese and two glass goblets and a bottle of wine. Éomer moved to inspect the wine. It was dark, almost black in the dim light.

"Melmësuhto," Lothíriel said, coming up behind him. "Erulehton gave me the bottle. He and Faramir both say it is the best you can find outside of the Elvish wines."

"That's what they were saying when Faramir gave it to Erulehton," Éomer said. "I was there when he brought it."

"They practically swear by it." She moved to the table. "Tolo, panno i hûl nín." She laughed at Éomer's confused expression and quickly translated, "Come, fill my cup!"

"Is there something that I should say?" asked Éomer as he opened the bottle of wine.

"There is 'buion na 'ell'," she said. "It means 'I serve with joy'."

"Well then, buion na 'ell!"

Lothíriel smiled. "We shall make a Sindarin-speaker out of you yet." She raised her glass, letting the facets catch the candlelight. "Na cuil, na meleth!" she said, and motioned for Éomer to do the same.

"Na cuil, na meleth!" repeated Éomer, raising his own glass. They each drained their glasses. Éomer leaned forward. "Is that what you spoke with Erulehton about last night? The wine?"

"Partially," Lothíriel admitted.

"And where were you today? We came looking for you."

She sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you? I was about."

"About where?"

She rolled her eyes. "Since you are so nosy, I'll tell you. I was in the Quarter. I had to pick up my dress. Which, by the way, I had made especially for tonight."

"It is lovely."

"Thank you."

"I am guessing that the horse among the swans along the collar was intentional?"

Lothíriel smiled widely. "I'm glad that you saw it. I was afraid the tailor had hidden it too well."

Éomer shook his head. "I noticed it when we were dancing, but it did not seem the best time to mention it."

"And what were you doing looking at my collar, Lord Éomer?" she laughed. "I thought you were an upstanding gentleman, but I suppose I was mistaken. You are a good-for-nothing rogue."

"You cut me to the quick, my lady," he returned, putting a hand to his chest.

Lothíriel leaned forward. "But I like good-for-nothing rogues." She gave him a lingering kiss. "They are far better than upstanding gentlemen," she whispered.

Éomer took a deep breath. "We shouldn't do this, Lothíriel. I should go."

"Life would be needlessly dull if we truly did everything we should have done," she answered, tangling her hands in his hair.

* * *

**translations:  
**_melmësuhto: _love-draft  
_tolo, panno i hûl nín:_ come, fill my cup  
_buion na 'ell:_ i serve with joy  
_na cuil, na meleth: _to life, to love

**A/N:** mwa-hahaha! i'm leaving it at that. :grins: and i know, i know, i'm cruel, and this took a while. and it's not as long as i would have liked it to be. but it's all good. i get out of school in roughly a week-and-a-half (counting the five-day weekend i get because of semesters). i really want to finish this before july 31 (exactly one year after i first began posting it).

**reviews:  
blue eyes at night: **i doubt this was quite what you expected with finding lothiriel, but i hope you liked it anyways.  
**lariren-shadow: **thanks! and he is a most wonderful third marshal (and an even better king!). and i (sort of) answered your question about the whereabouts of lothiriel. i'm thinking about writing a one-shot (similar to that of the day rises) about her conversation with erulehton that night.  
**faer little meg: **lol..i can definitely think of some people i'd like to have fall off a horse. glad you liked it!  
**starnat: **neither would i, neither would i.**  
fandun: **i assure you, there are no connections to the haradrim in this story. he's just a total, um, arse. i'm glad you liked the incorporation of tristan & isolde. it's always been one of my favorite stories (and i love the waterhouse painting based upon it).  
**mad-aniviel: **yeah, i could have made his comeuppance more extreme. but then again, falling off your horse in front of someone from a country renowned for its horsemanship (not to mention half the children of the royal houses of gondor) would be quite embarrassing.  
**capriceann hedican-kocur:** of course they'll get together! it's eomer and lothiriel!  
**quizzabella: **ah, if only you'd given me that idea sooner! i could have made aermaethor's horse be firefoot and have eomer receive him after the race! dangit. a lost opportunity.  
**ladyarian: **how could anyone :not: like amrothos? he's a doll. and he knows his sailor's jargon (snicker).  
**name1: **thank you!  
**lometari: **lothiriel's up to her minxing ways, of course. and i don't think this is nearly as long a wait as my last update. glad you liked it!


	26. Navaer

:disclaimer: hmm…still don't own it.

* * *

Chapter XXVI

Éomer awoke early the next morning. He climbed out of bed and dressed quietly. He slipped out of his room and made for the stables. He needed to think clearly, and the only place where that was possible in Dol Amroth was in the stall of his closest companion.

Firefoot snorted at him as he entered the stable. "Hello boy," Éomer whispered. "I'm sorry I haven't been here much. Things have been…chaotic." The horse chuffed. "She's beautiful," Éomer told him as he began to brush the animal's coat. "She is also quite mad. I was with her last night, in her room. She had everything so perfect, and I left her there." He sighed. "I couldn't do it," he told the horse. "I just couldn't. Despite whatever she did with Erulehton those years ago, she is too innocent. We don't match. We are not meant to be together. Besides, I leave in less than a week. I will never be back."

The horse rolled his eyes at its owner as if to say that was a ridiculous way of rationalizing his actions. "You are right of course," Éomer told him. "I'm afraid, Firefoot. Uncle is not well, and Théodred takes more and more risks with every battle he rushes into." He sighed. "He makes me think of Father, and that scares me more than anything. If Théodred were to die without an heir, that would make me next in line for the throne. I cannot handle that responsibility. I could never be king."

"I think you would make a better king than you give yourself credit for." Éomer turned, startled by Erchirion's voice. The prince grinned at him. "Adar wants to see you. You are here for more than just a festival, after all."

"How much did you hear?" Éomer asked as the two men walked back toward the palace.

"Enough," answered the prince.

* * *

Imrahil was waiting in his study along with Faramir, Elphir, and Amrothos. Éomer and Erchirion took the remaining two seats. "Suílad," said Imrahil.

"Suílad," Éomer returned.

"Shall we begin?" asked the prince.

"By all means, please do," answered Éomer.

* * *

The meetings went well into the afternoon. It was nearing dinnertime when Éomer and Amrothos were walking down to Saberman's. "That went well, didn't you think?" said Amrothos.

Éomer nodded. "Better than it might have." They had reached an agreement fairly quickly, and Éomer planned to leave the city the next morning. He could have stayed longer, but he needed to leave. He would never admit it, but he did not want to be around Lothíriel any longer than necessary. It would be that much harder to leave her. "I will be sad to leave this place," he told Amrothos.

"Why is that? Because of my sister?" The prince gave him a sly grin.

"Not just that," Éomer answered. "Dol Amroth is far more peaceful than any other city I've ever been in. I don't know if it is the sea or just that it is so far away from any immediate dangers. I feel safe here."

"You've obviously never been here during a squall or an attack from the Haradrim," said Amrothos as he ushered Éomer inside the pub.

"Afternoon, boys," said Aela. "What'll it be today?"

"Your best ale," called Amrothos. "It's the horse-lord's last night in Dol Amroth. We have to make it a good one."

Aela blinked at him and turned to Éomer. "You're already leaving us? You've hardly been here two weeks!"

"That is true, but I'll still be here," piped up Faramir, who was already seated at a table with Erulehton, Erchirion, and Lothíriel.

The barmaid raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that a promise?"

"You know it is, my fair darling."

"Faramir, the sun's not even set, and you're already drunk," Lothíriel said.

"Am not!" the steward's son protested indignantly. "Besides, it's only to celebrate the going away of your good friend Éomer."

Lothíriel shook her head. "Come on, you three, have a seat," she called to Aela, Amrothos, and Éomer. "It's a while yet before anyone has to leave."

* * *

It was quite late when Erulehton decided that everyone had had too much ale and needed to go home so he could close up the pub for the night.. He and Aela bid Éomer farewell, telling him he was welcome in their establishment any time he was in Dol Amroth. Éomer thanked them for their hospitality and promised to bring them some real ale if he had the chance.

"Take care of yourself," Erulehton told him. "And come back for your lady."

"I mean to," answered Éomer.

The five people from the palace split up. Erchirion was keeping Amrothos in line (the younger prince was drunkenly praising the attributes of a statue), Faramir was giving Aela a rather lengthy goodnight kiss, and Éomer and Lothíriel trudged up the hill, the least-drunk couple of them all.

"I'm sorry about leaving you last night," Éomer said.

"Don't be. I was being…impetuous. I am a fool, Éomer."

"You are anything but a fool, Lothíriel."

She shook her head. "I am a fool, and a dreadful one at that. Few things are worse than being a fool and knowing it. Trust me, I know. I am one." She smiled sadly at him. "Maer dú, rochir. Losto mae. And if I do not see you before you leave tomorrow, sílo Anor bo men lín. Cuio mae!" She kissed each of his cheeks once and began to leave.

Éomer grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. "I will never forget you," he promised her yet again. "I will come for you someday. I do not know when, but I will."

"Do not make promises you cannot keep," she whispered, tears falling from her eyes.

"I never have," he replied. He kissed her soundly, deeply, and released her. Lothíriel put a hand to her lips, smiled weakly at him, and slipped away.

* * *

Lothíriel was not there to bid him farewell in the morning. Éomer was not particularly surprised. Faramir, Erchirion, and Amrothos were there, all of them looking worse for the wear.

"You'll have to bring me one of your prized horses," said Faramir. "And one for my brother as well. He loves horses."

"I'll do that someday," answered Éomer.

"Take care of yourself, Éomer," said Erchirion.

"Visit soon so Lothíriel doesn't mope too much," interjected Amrothos.

"I can make you no promises on that," Éomer reminded him. "I will visit sometime, though."

"Good. You're fun to have around."

"Thank you, Amrothos. I think." Éomer grinned. "Keep the suitors away from Lothíriel for me, would you?"

"I think we can manage that," answered Erchirion.

"Navaer!" called the princes as Éomer rode out of the palace gates. He turned in the saddle and waved, catching a glimpse of a figure standing on a balcony in a midnight blue gown. Éomer thought he saw the figure blow a kiss at him, but he could not be sure, so he waved again and turned back to the road. "Let's go home, Firefoot," he said as he and his horse clattered through the streets of the silver city.

**

* * *

**

**translations:  
**_Maer dú, rochir: _Good night, horse-lord.  
_Losto mae:_ Sleep well.  
_Sílo Anor bo men lín: _May the Sun shine upon your road.  
_Cuio mae: _Live well.  
_Navaer: _Farewell

**A/N: **i told you guys that the second week would be considerably shorter than the first. i bet you didn't believe me, did you? it's not as long as i would have liked, but it is considerably shorter than the first. and i have an announcement to make: there's only one chapter left. that's right. one chapter. really, it could be termed the epilogue, but since this didn't have a prologue, i decided to just have it as the final chapter. but don't worry. i won't post it until at least sometime next week. and then i can get started on my next endeavour concerning the delightful children of prince imrahil and the dastardly duo of rohan (plus a little faramir on the side).

**Replies:  
lariren-shadow: **but you should know by now that lothiriel never tells the entire story. she went other places than the dressmaker's…places she may never tell us about.  
**quizzabella: **is this soon enough for you? lol..hope you enjoyed it!  
**lometari: **but he'll never find eomer in lothiriel's bed! at least, not until after the dynamic duo is married. and good luck on your exams!  
**ladyarian: **you can claim amrothos if you like, but that man is tied down by no one lady! i myself prefer the slightly-more-reserved erchirion.  
**faer little meg:** she is naughty, but i doubt this was what you were expecting.  
**fandun: **i couldn't help it. it just wasn't right. not with this particular story. i apologize. maybe someday i'll write a story with a more…roguish eomer, but it wasn't this time around.  
**starnat: **i thought the dress was clever, too. i wish i had one like it.  
**blue eyes at night: **but don't you know eomer's color-blind? green and red are brown, so he never knows whether he's good to go or not.


	27. The Faerie Tale

:disclaimer: would it surprise you if i said that i still don't own this?

* * *

Chapter XXVII  
Meduseld, Rohan  
T.A. 3021

Éomer sighed. It was hard to believe that all of that had taken place four years ago, he mused as he took another sip of ale. So much had happened since he had last seen Lothíriel waving goodbye to him. The trade agreements that he had arranged with Prince Imrahil had fallen through merely a year later due to increased danger in Rohan and increased political tension in Gondor. The War had been fought, Éomer had become king, and hardly a day passed that he didn't think of the princess. When they had seen each other in Minas Tirith shortly after the Battle of the Pelennor, Amrothos had assured him that Lothíriel was safe and still unwed. That may have been the case two years ago, but Éomer was convinced that she had forgotten him since then. She had not even come to Éowyn and Faramir's wedding.

"Éomer," said Éowyn, bringing her brother out of his memories and back to the busy New Year's festivities, "there's someone here I want you to meet."

He let out an exasperated sigh. Éowyn had taken it upon herself to find Éomer a wife and continually thrust various ladies from both kingdoms (and once, one from Dale) at him in hopes of curing his apparent lack of interest in having an heir. Her fervor had doubled in recent months—no doubt in part due to the fact that she was now with child herself. He had tried several times to tell her about Lothíriel, but Éowyn was too busy with her own schemes to pay any attention.

"Must we do this again, Éowyn?" he asked with no small amount of annoyance.

"Come now, you'll never find a wife if you stay in your chair all night. And then how would you ever have an heir?"

Éomer let her pull him from his chair. "Who is she this time?"

"She's a bit younger than I, but I think you will like her," Éowyn said, ignoring her brother's question. "She's over by the dancers." She dragged him through the crowded halls, chattering about the girl as she went. Éomer tuned her out. "Ah, here we are," she said at last, stopping when they had reached a cluster of dark-haired women watching the many Rohirrim with interest.

"Gondorians," he muttered resignedly. "Always Gondorians. Éowyn, don't you think it would be better if I married one of our own people?" Éomer attempted to sneak away (he had no desire to socialize with five women at once), but Éowyn would not allow it.

"Nonsense," Éowyn replied. "You should marry the person you love; none other would be worth the pain."

_And what if the person you love has forgotten all about you? _Éomer thought to himself.

Éowyn moved to a girl wearing a dark green dress on the shoulder. "I found him," she whispered to the women. The ladies turned around, and Éomer nearly fell over in shock when he saw the face of the girl in green. "Éomer, this is Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. Lothíriel, may I present to you my brother, Éomer-king of Rohan?"

"Westu Éomer-cyning hal," Lothíriel said in heavily-accented, but un-mangled Rohirric. "I trust all is well with you?" She smiled in amusement as Éomer choked.

"Mae govannen, Lothíriel," he answered after he regained his composure. "Well enough. But where is your husband, if I may ask? Or does he not give the king of Rohan enough credit to greet me himself?"

Lothíriel laughed at him. "You may ask, milord, but I could not tell you the answer to either question, for I have not met him myself. But believe me, my lord, the moment we meet, I shall ask him both questions."

Éomer grinned. "You had best do that. I do not want anyone undermining my kingship."

The ladies standing behind Lothíriel twittered with gossip. They vaguely remembered a man who looked similar to the one standing before them. Hadn't he visited Dol Amroth during Ethuil Mereth a few years ago? But surely he was not the new king! And what strange questions he had asked!

Éowyn stood beside her brother, terribly confused by the conversation he was having with her husband's cousin. Faramir, seeing the distressed look upon his wife's face, went to join her. The moment he saw the princess and king standing together, he grinned. He ushered Éowyn away to quietly explain the story. The White Lady glanced back at her brother and the princess and smiled. "They're perfect for each other," she whispered to Faramir.

"They are," he answered.

* * *

"You could have come sooner," Éomer said quietly as he led Lothíriel out to the steps of Meduseld.

"When?" Lothíriel turned to him. "Your uncle's funeral? I never met the man, though I am sure he was a great ruler. And you've been rebuilding your country for the past year and a half; I would have been a distraction—"

"A welcome distraction," he countered.

She snorted. "But a distraction nonetheless."

"I was afraid you had forgotten me."

"How could I ever forget you?" she asked. "You are the only man who was ever brave enough to refuse me."

"Brave enough?" he laughed. "Gods, Lothíriel, I was horridly afraid of you. You were bold and brazen and so amazingly beautiful." He looked at her sharply. "There were other men?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "A few. I had to entertain myself somehow."

"Surely you are not serious."

"Deadly serious." She tossed her head. "None of them were so restrained as you were. They all were after one thing. Power. They thought they could control me, but they were wrong of course. I kept my heart for you, though." She grinned at the stunned look on Éomer's face. "You are far too gullible, my lord. The men of Dol Amroth are frightened of me, with the exception of Erulehton and my brothers. They know me too well. I am the same as I ever was, alone, unwanted, and waiting." She pursed her lips together into a small pout and sniffed.

"Waiting for what?"

"You, of course."

"Why are you waiting for me?"

"You have to go to Dol Amroth."

"Why?" he asked, moving closer to her. "You are here, so why should I leave?"

"I believe it was you who promised to return to me, not the other way around, so I have to go back to Dol Amroth and wait for you to come get me…." She began to walk back inside but was stopped by an arm around her waist.

"You would not leave me to be the only man without a dancing partner tonight, would you?" Éomer asked.

"That depends," she answered.

"On what?"

"The kind of dance."

"And what sort of dance would convince you to stay?" He turned her so that she faced him.

A wide grin spread across her face, and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

Éomer laughed. "I think that can be arranged at some point, but first we must return to the hall."

"But I did not come here to stand in a smoky hall. I came to find someone."

"And who might that be?"

"A gentleman I met years ago—he was either brave enough to refuse me or too scared to do anything with me. I am not sure which. In any case, I love him, and I came to find him because he obviously was too afraid of my father to ask for me."

"Perhaps we can find him after I make my announcement."

"Whatever is this announcement for, if you do not mind my asking?" she asked, linking hands with him.

"I suspect my people—not to mention my sister—would like to know that I have chosen a wife at last."

"Oh? And who might she be?" Lothíriel asked innocently.

"A lady I met years ago—we were in love but were separated first by distance and then by the War. We only recently met again, and now I plan to make her mine forever."

"That sounds like a faerie tale," she said.

"It is."

:fin:

**

* * *

**

**Translations:  
**_westu hal: _be thou well/well met  
_cyning: _king  
_mae govannen: _well met  
_fin: _end

be thou well/well metkingwell metend 

**A/N: **so there you have it, folks. the end. with a lot of throw-backs to other parts of the story. up next will be mais les yeux sont aveugles, a french take on our lovely couple. ok, not really. only the title's in french, because i named it after a line in le petit prince. it's still very much in draft form, so i don't know when it will actually be posted. it might be a while. updates on the story (as well as on baseball and other things) will be posted in my xanga, which is listed as my website in my bio. until then, thank you to everyone who has read this, and your reviews are always appreciated!

**Replies:  
faer little meg: **lol..i think i understood most of your review. anyways, glad you liked the good-byes, i was afraid they would be a bit stilted.  
**capriceann hedican-kocur: **nope, no sequel is in the works. as far as i can tell, there's nothing more to say about these two. i may go back sometime and write a ficlet about aela and erulehton (to give those two some closure), but i make no promises.  
**trixie: **thank you! i hope you liked it!  
**quizzabella: **as i told caprice, no sequel is planned, but if the muse calls, who am i to refuse it?  
**name1: **thank you!  
**ladyarian: **oh, but i can, and i have. and if you like, you can take amrothos as an ending-of-the-story present. my treat. just take care of him, would you? and let us know what he's up to!  
**lariren-shadow: **thankies! hope you enjoyed the end!  
**starnat: **faramir deserves to be happy. definitely.  
**blue eyes at night: **what a lovely poem! thank you so much for sharing it! not that lothiriel ever paid much attention to its warning, but still…hope you liked the end!  
**lometari: **i promised to wait until this week so people could get used to the idea of it ending. hope i didn't make you wait too long. thanks for the review!  
**wondereye: **i have granted you your resolution. i'll let you fill in any blanks i might have left.


End file.
